


Common Misconceptions

by DestineyTot



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blood Drinking, Character Development, Demons, Demonstuck, Developing Relationship, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Overprotective!Jake, Slow Burn, now with illustrations!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 116,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestineyTot/pseuds/DestineyTot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jake notices the company John has been keeping, he immediately becomes fearful for his cousin's safety. </p><p>Demons are selfish. Demons are violent. Demons are quick to take advantage of humans, and he'll be damned if he let's his cousin fall prey to their whims. He's content to believe that they're all up to no good, but when Dirk shows up and throws a wrench in his plans, he might have to reevaluate his opinion on them. And maybe, just maybe, realize some other important things along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now What?

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea has been swimming around in my head for a while now. I really love demonstuck and I've been wanting to contribute something myself. So after going through a bunch of horror movies and tv shows for inspiration, I finally sat my ass down and started writing this monster.
> 
>  **EDIT:** I'm going to (slowly) start uploading illustrations for some of the chapters. Be on the lookout for those!

When you were a child, you were told that there are beings in this world that lurk in dark corners; beings who relish in the opportunity to sway mortals into lopsided pacts, who prey on humans for their blood and body. Heinous monsters who selfishly wreak havoc on the human realm and bring misfortune to anyone they associate with. A scourge upon the earth, a walking plague feasting on the life energies of humanity. They were the bane of intelligent beings. 

These were the monsters your grandfather had warned you and your sister about as children. Long-fanged, deceptively beautiful creatures who lure their victims in with promises of power and pleasure, who glamour people with their unnaturally colored eyes. They move like fog over a lake, fluidly and languidly, betraying the usual clumsy clamor of human beings. Their charming facade served as the predecessor to the feast, before they mercilessly snuffed out their victim's flame. 

The world is mostly unaware of these monsters, to your knowledge. They walk among the crowd unnoticed, watching, waiting, and picking apart their victims with their knowing eyes. You’ve been taught to fear these creatures, to constantly be wary of them. Watch, but never participate. Be on guard, but never confront them. For their strength and cunning could conquer even the hardiest human beings. 

Your grandfather was fiercely protective over you and your sister. He’d encouraged you both to always look out for each other. Now that he’s long gone and passed away, Jade is all you have. Well, save for your younger cousin, John, whom you’ve grown close to in the absence of a male friend.

When your grandfather had passed away, you and Jade had moved away from the serene little island you called home for all of your childhood. You now take up residence near John’s home, a house you’d bought with the fortune your grandfather had left behind. To this day, you never really knew what he did or how he accumulated so much wealth. But it allows you and Jade to live easy after his passing, and you like to think that he wanted you two to be prepared after his death. Each passing day is a reminder of how much you miss him. He was always too good for you and your sis.

Enough lamenting for now. Memories of your generous grandfather aside, that’s not what you’re focused on right now. Right now, you’re more concerned for your cousin’s wellbeing.

Unlike you and Jade, John is completely oblivious to the existence of demons.

You suppose his dad never told him. Or maybe his father doesn’t even know himself. The details are unknown to you; how much of your family is aware, how far this secret knowledge apparently extends. You can't even say for sure if your parents had been aware, seeing as how they died when you and Jade were too young to remember them. You'd never had the opportunity to ask. **  
**

Back to John. You really need to focus on the matter at hand.

How long ago had it began? A month? He’d suddenly acquired a new friend, and as innocent as that appeared to be, you weren't blind to the sickly, crimson aura seeping off of this newcomer. His tainted energy was palpable from a hundred feet away, a beacon late in the evenings as you saw the two of them commuting to and from John's house. You don’t know what this strange gift is, or why your sister lacks said talent, but it’s something you appreciate because it warns you about who to stay away from.

Too close for comfort, too unnerving to watch unfold.You couldn't let John sink into such an obvious trap.

The dangerous stranger sticks out easily enough, even without the spectral sight you possess. The shock of platinum blonde hair and pale white skin, while not uncommon in the rainy state of Washington, is a shade lighter than what could be considered normal. The demon parading around with your cousin is otherwise smart when it comes to his appearance. The black aviators covering what you can only assume are wildly colored eyes helps keep attention off of him. You know otherwise. The smoky red tendrils of his energy cascading off of him curl around your cousin in sickening ways. You know his intentions are less than pure.

You follow them around for at least a week, watching John like a hawk. You're nervous all the time, worried that this demon will lead your innocent cousin off to some dark alley and sink his teeth into John’s neck. So far, it’s been mostly innocent activities. But you know what it’s eventually going to lead up to. You don’t drop your guard for one moment.

Eventually you get antsy. Your grandfather warned you to stay out of the way of demons. He repeated this warning like a mantra, reciting it to you daily when he was still alive. You feel bad for going against his word, but you have to do something to get that scoundrel away from your cousin.

Now it’s late at night, and John has just said goodbye to his dangerous friend. You’ve got lengths of silver balled up in your hand, and you can’t help but worry your bottom lip with your teeth. You’re scared senseless, you’ve never dealt with demons before, and this all seems a little too reckless in hindsight.

You go over the incantation in your head once more, something you dug up from some old book that Jade had dragged along with her when you guys moved. You believe it belonged to your grandfather, the pages worn and bent with bookmarks and stained with notes and highlighter ink. You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t think that your granddad didn’t take this stuff seriously. You can only hope you get it right and it works.

You watch the demon saunter away from John’s house, your green eyes wide and full of anxious fear. It’s only when he suddenly vanishes in plain sight that you allow yourself to move and gasp.

_Where...where did he go?_

One second he was there, and the next he had simply vanished! He was like a blur, disappearing into nothing. Oh lord, if they can turn invisible on top of everything else, this might be a little bit harder than you originally thought.

You’re about to step out of the shadow of the house you’re standing in when a voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“You know, you’re pretty bad at hiding. Or just stalking in general. Yeah.”

You turn, your blood cooling at an alarming rate in your veins, or so you think. The stranger staring at you has that same vivid platinum blonde hair, though his flips out a little at the end and is obviously styled. If the pointed shades on his face are any indicator, this guy has something to do with the other guy you were just stalking.

That is bad news.

You see it immediately, the smoky orange aura flaring up and over his body. Thickly sweet, inviting. You swallow hard, trying not to let your face lapse into a fearful expression. You didn’t count on the demon having an accomplice.  Or, by the looks of it, a relative. You doubt they go out of their way to look so much alike on purpose. That would just be silly.

“Can’t say why you’re stalking my kid bro, though. You one of those fabled hunters?” You don’t really see it much, but you think he raises an eyebrow at you. You don’t answer. “Nah, you don’t look the type. I can see you trembling from here.”

He takes a step towards you, and alarm bells start going off. You steel yourself and try to remember the incantation. Though your voice is shaky, you manage to belt out the first part. For safety measures, you take a defensive step back and observe with wide eyes what you hope will be instant results. 

He...doesn’t really do much of anything. Just kind of stands there and does what you can only assume is stare at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops short, seeming thoughtful. You’re becoming more and more nervous as the second ticks by, but you continue nonetheless. You’ve already got one foot in the water, so you might as well fling yourself in.

As you continue the incantation, he speaks over you, sounding a little amused. “Are you seriously chanting latin at me? Wow. You’re seriously reciting some latin at me.” He scoffs, apparently finding your attempts humorous. He doesn’t looked phased at all. You find yourself becoming a little frustrated at his mocking, and it shows as your voice takes on a hard edge. Fear be damned, you'll make this work somehow! 

“Hate to break it to you, pal, but the last time latin ever did any harm to me was a good 250 years ago. Not a lot of people got what it takes to really dish out the hard…” He hesitates, clearing his throat slightly. “The hard..." An uneasy cough. "The hard stuff…” He swallows hard, and lightly knocks on his chest with his fist, as if he’s congested and can’t quite clear his throat.

He glances up at you again, and you swear you actually see a worried look flash across his face. You’re starting to feel a little more confident in yourself, and your voice becomes louder, picking up more power as you go on. You see his knees buckle slightly and he catches himself on the panelling of the house 

He’s holding his chest now, breathing raggedly. His shades have slipped down a little on his face and you can see the bright orange irises staring at you in bewilderment. He flinches, over and over, muttering under his breath. “What the fuck...is this...how are you...doing...this...” He finally takes a knee, and the amount of physical exertion it’s taking for him to stay somewhat upright is easily visible.

You want to smile. You silently thank your grandfather and make a promise to have more faith in him from here on out. There was never any reason to doubt him or his knowledge sources.

The demon is now down on all fours, barely holding himself up. His chest is heaving with the effort of just staying conscious. If you focus, you can see the bright orange aura around him is dwindling, shrinking in size and brightness. His candle is going out and soon he won’t be able to hold consciousness anymore.

You don’t know what you plan on doing after that, but phase one of your plan is actually working and that’s good enough for you.

Orange eyes flick up to you momentarily again, and the great confusion in those bright pools is the last thing you see before he passes out. He collapses on the ground in a heap, shades tipping off his nose and sinking down his face.

You finish the incantation for good measure. It never hurts to be safe and you’ve never done anything like this before. You’re still reeling from the fact that this actually worked.

But now you’ve got another problem on your hands. This isn’t the demon you wanted. Though he admitted to being the brother of the one you were tailing, he isn’t the main perpetrator of the problem at hand.

You’ll take what you can get though. If this demon is the brother of the one following John, then maybe you can use him to get to the other one. That’s how it works in the movies, right? Though it’s usually the villains who execute plans like that... You try not to think too hard about it.

Your eyes stare at the still form on the ground, and you grimace at what you know you have to do next. Luckily, you and Jade had invested in a car once you made it to Washington, so you won’t actually have to drag a limp body through the neighborhood back to your house. That would definitely earn you a couple stares. Or you know...the cops knocking on your door.

This is all kinds of shady and suddenly you’re feeling self-conscious. _‘They’re demons, Jake. They’re all sorts of nasty and underhanded. What you're doing is perfectly justified. You’re fine, you’re fine.’_

You sigh, and bend down and set to work on getting the demon into your vehicle.

* * *

  
You swear this is straight out of a suspense movie.

You’re down in the basement of yours and Jade’s shared home, sitting in a chair across from the demon who is currently wrapped up in silver tendrils of chain. The light is on overhead, though it’s a little dim because of the watt output. You’ve been meaning to replace that blasted light for a while now.

You’re not sure why, but you’d brought along the demon’s pointy shades as well, as they’re now resting on the end table by the couch. Maybe it was their peculier shape that caught your attention, or maybe it was because they stood out on the demon. Maybe it was just your internalized gentlemanly mannerisms, but you'd pocketed them and brought them along nonetheless.

When you’d first laid the chains on his skin, it had sizzled and admittedly scared the hell out of you. Even now, you can see the underlying red welts underneath the chains. You wonder how much it hurts, and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You berate yourself for being so weak minded and soft right now. But that’s just who you are and as much as you want to be a badass vigilante, you still carry quite a bit of sympathy. The silver should work to keep him confined.

You’re pretty sure silver immobilizes demons. At least, that’s what you’ve read.

Once again, luck is on your side, as Jade is currently away from home and spending the night with a friend. While the thought of being alone with this demon scares you, you really don’t want to explain to your sister that you kidnapped and are currently holding a monster hostage. She wasn’t even aware of the problem with John in the first place.

You’re scared and unsure, and rightfully so. You even busted out the twin pistols your grandfather had gifted you a few years ago. They’re laying on the table beside you, the safety set on both of them.

It’s almost an hour later, and your head is beginning to droop from exhaustion when you hear the tell-tale sounds of him coming to. He lets out a low groan, cursing under his breath, and shakes his head a little bit. You see his fingers curling under the silver chains, and then he goes to move.

He hisses immediately and stills. His eyes shoot open and suddenly he’s looking at you, his fangs bared and sharp looking even in the dim light.

You swallow nervously. This is more intimidating than you thought. “I think you know why I brought you here.”

He’s still glaring at you, but his fangs are no longer barred. His mouth is set into an unhappy line though. “No fucking idea, actually. This is all kind of new to me. So tell me again why I’m here and covered in fucking silver of all things?”

This is supposed to be the part where you scoff like a badass and reinforce that he knows exactly why he’s here. And yet, he sounds genuinely confused. Like he seriously has no idea why he’s here. Your eyebrows raise a little and you can’t help but ask. “You really don’t know?”

The look he gives you is one of the flattest you’ve ever seen. It leaves you feeling less than intellectually adequate. “Do I really need to repeat myself?”

You hesitate for a moment, and the two of you simply share a look; he’s sorely unimpressed and you’re just...well, you’re not really sure.

Finally, you break away from his bright orange stare and huff out, “Listen, I’m just going to cut to the chase here. Your brother... ? Your brother has been following my cousin for over a month now and I know what he is and what he plans on doing and I for one cannot stand by and just let this corrupt demon have his way with John and possibly risk his well being and-” You take a quick breath and he's looking a little impressed by your growing tangent. “This is really not okay! Not in the least! And I demand that it stop! So if I have to use you to get your brother to come here, then that’s what I must do and I won’t be afraid to take harsh action if the situation calls for it!”

You’re breathing a little hard by the end of that. Wow, you haven’t went off like that since the time you discovered your sister was being harassed by some creep while out shopping. The word vomit you just spewed everywhere is a little embarrassing to say the least, but damn it, you’re adamant about this whole thing! 

The demon sitting across from you, however, isn’t quite so keen on taking you as serious as you want him to. He cracks a smirk at your tangent and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“Don’t...don’t you dare laugh at me! I’m being serious!” Your face is turning red, you can feel it.

He does laugh, and it makes you bristle somewhat. His shoulders shake a little and you’re sure he’d be mock wiping away tears if he could. “You think my little bro wants to suck the life out of your cousin? I mean, maybe he’d like a taste of that, but if you seriously think for one second that he actually wants to hurt him-”

“Of course he wants to hurt him! That’s basic demonic nature!”

He levels you with a hard look at that. “Oh, you'll have to excuse me. Didn’t realize you were in an expert in demonology. Sure must be so well educated with how much fucking time you spend around us demons. You must know us better than we know ourselves.” His tone loses its sarcastic bite. “You seriously think that, huh? You one of those types that like to jump the gun? Think we’re all out to ruin everything good and holy and generally be assholes? I'm not denying the small reality of that, but come on man.”

You’re not going to lie. That wasn't the answer you foresaw. You didn’t expect him to get so defensive. If anything, you expected him to all but confirm your fears and gloat about how sick and twisted they are.

This isn’t going like you thought it would and you’re kind of at a loss for words.

“Speechless, huh? Kinda shocking to find out that demons can have a conscious too, right? Yeah, I figured.” He rolls his eyes and looks off to the side.

His words are easy to take at face value, but the paranoia gnawing away at your gut tells you to take what he says with a grain of salt. Again, your grandfather's teachings flash through your mind; deceptive, low creatures. The moment you drop your guard is the moment this demon gains the upper hand on you.

You’re immediately back on the defensive again. You grit your teeth and hastily grab the pistols lying on the table next to your seat. There’s no time wasted between grabbing them and aiming the barrels at his head.

He fixes you with a cold stare. “You don’t fool me, monster. I’ve been warned countless times about how deceptive your kind can be. I’m no fool to your nature! So if you know what’s best for you, you’ll spill out any information you have about your scum brother!”

The sound of the silver chains jingling reaches your ears. You see him shifting around a little. “You know, I’m all about talking shit about my kid bro, but I don’t really appreciate anyone else doing it.” He leans forward, the chains sizzling against his skin with the strain. His face betrays no pain. “Besides, you can shoot if you want. I think you’ll find that it won’t do shit to me.”

This demon is taunting you, and boy if that doesn’t make you burn on the inside. You’ve never shot anyone in your life, but you feel confident in your ability to do it right now. Your finger itches on the trigger, and though your heart feels as though it’s dropped into your stomach, you know what you have to do to keep John safe.

“I’ll give you one last chance to tell me where he is.” The slight shiver to your voice betrays your nervousness.

“You better not miss.” Is the only reply you get.

Just as your finger begins to pull back on the trigger, the sound of the chains snapping reaches your ears.

The pistols are knocked from your hands, sliding across the room until they hit the wall. He’s up in your face and the burning orange of his eyes leaves you a little breathless. Strong, cold hands are locked around your wrists in a steel grip and you swear you’ve never been so terrified before.

“Here’s some advice,” He starts, voice a low rumble. “If you plan on shooting someone, make sure the safety is off first. Second,” He’s inching closer, and your breath catches in your throat. “Silver hurts like hell, but you might want to get some thicker chains.”

It only takes a moment for the panic to set in, and soon you’re wrenching from his grip and turning to flee. You thought the silver alone would root him in place. You had no idea he could just break the chains so easily. If you were thinking straight, you’d probably wonder why he waited so long before busting out.

The sudden whoosh of air behind you tells you that he’s moving, and _fast_. There’s no possible way you can outrun him and oh shit, this was a terrible idea why did you ever go through with this you are so dead and Jade is going to come home and find your dead body and oh god oh god oh god-

You’re wrenched back, pulled flat against his chest, and then down into his lap and boy, do you squirm and thrash and try your damndest to get away from him. But he’s so damn strong and his arms are like unrelenting vice grips around you. You yell and curse, but there’s no one home, and in the underground room of the basement, you doubt anyone would hear you.

You wish now that Jade had stayed home tonight. Hell, this probably wouldn’t be happening right now if she’d just stayed home.

The cool breath on your neck sends shivers up your spine and once again, the ice is in your veins. His mouth is so dangerously close to your skin and you can feel a cold sweat starting.

“Come on now, I’m not even going to hurt you. I’m a pretty chill guy once you get to know me.” He pauses for a moment, and yep, you definitely feel his nose skimming up your dark skin. You shudder at what you know must be coming.

“Unhand me, you trash tier wanker!” You thrash even harder, and he just squeezes even harder, and your breath leaves you in an sudden exhale. He loosens up when he feels you cease your struggling a little.

“Well, I guess I should amend that. You might feel a little pinch, but,” Oh goodness, his mouth is right by your ear and his voice has suddenly pitched down and that shouldn’t be remotely attractive to you, but it makes you react that way all the same. “I think you’re gonna like this.”

He’s still holding you tightly with one arm, but the other comes up and he’s pulling your collar down. Why is he being strangely gentle this isn’t right this isn’t how this was supposed to go this was supposed to be a manly fight and you were supposed to save your cousin and oh god-

You feel a tongue gliding across your shoulder, right where the junction of said body part and your neck meet and a chill composed of half fear and half anticipation wracks you. With how tender and soft he's being, you swear it almost feels like he’s kissing you and this is so bloody wrong. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stand on end and you know with dread what's going to happen next. You glance out of the corner of your eyes and spot the sharp fangs and they look so much more devastating up close. His eyes are closed and he’s descending down onto your skin. You brace yourself for what you can only imagine as searing pain, and you find yourself yelling out right as he clamps down. “No!”

His fangs sink in, and there’s a moment where you feel nothing but a sharp sting and you jolt upright with a violent gasp. His mouth is on you and he sucks and you feel blood gushing out of the bite, droplets seeping past his lips and staining the collar of your shirt. You immediately feel lightheaded and dizzy and the sting along with the former sensations leaves you reeling.

Despite the cornucopia of distressing sensations assaulting you, you’ll be damned if you go down without one last fight. You struggle blindly in his grasp, trying to elbow him, trying to do something, but again to no avail. He’s like a goddamn brick house and you can’t budge him.

That’s when it hits you.

There’s a sudden warmth spreading through your body at an alarming rate, leaving you pleasantly numb and feeling weightless at the same time. You feel yourself drowning in the sensation, and that’s the only way you know how to describe it. It engulfs you like a wave, dragging you down into the depths and you find that you don’t have it in you to struggle anymore.

Suddenly the teeth in your neck no longer incite pain, but rather a strange form of pleasure. One that lights your nerves on fire and has you writhing a little in his hold, legs sliding against his and trying to find purchase on something, anything to help you ground yourself with because oh god, this feeling is so exquisite and you’ve never felt anything like this before.

It spreads to your fingertips and down in your toes, and it reminds you of what a truly good orgasm feels like, one that leaves you breathless and feeling like jelly. Only the sensation doesn’t end so shortly and instead continues on, and on and on and on and you don’t want it to end it’s so good.

A whimper escapes you, and then a string of barely suppressed moans. You’d be ashamed if you could think straight, but you can’t. Your mind is all fogged up and all you can think is that you want more more _more_.

The pressure on the junction of your neck leaves momentarily and you want to whine with the loss because that’s what is bringing you these euphoric feelings, right? You hear him laugh, his voice heady, and he’s licking up streams of blood that’s escaped his mouth. His hold on you is still firm, but gentle now and you think you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but in his arms at the moment.

“You like that, huh?” He teases, and you nod without shame because oh god yes, you really like that and you want more. “See, we’re not so bad. This isn’t so bad, right?” You’ve all but forgotten what lead to this current situation, but you feel inclined to agree with him.

As though he knows what you’re really thinking, his mouth is on you again, but this time his fangs sink directly into the side of your neck and you jolt again, but it’s purely out of pleasure this time. An expletive escapes your mouth in a breathy moan, your lips parted slightly and your eyes closed from the euphoria engulfing you right now. “Oh, fuck...please...please…”

Your head tilts back, rests against his shoulder as he feeds from you, and you’re content to let him drain you dry. If death feels this good, then you think you might be fine with it.

You’re barely there, barely aware of what’s happening when he finishes for the second time. Your limbs have all become extremely numb and you feel so comfortable, like you’re lying on a cloud. You vaguely register him laying your body on the basement couch, the soft graze of his fingers against the wounds on your neck. Your eyes are unfocused, though you catch glimpses of almost-white hair and vivid orange eyes. You merely blink, feeling as if you could fall asleep at any moment. His fingers move to your glasses and he removes them carefully. 

The soft pressure against your lips makes your eyes close again, and when the pressure leaves, you don’t have the will to open them. Distantly, as if hearing it from under water, you hear him say: **sleep**.


	2. Recollection Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake realizes that the severity of the situation has all but doubled, and Dirk reflects on things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that I will try to update on a weekly basis. That way I don't feel stressed/pressured all too much and I have plenty of time to work on chapters.

**== > Be John**

It’s still the weekend, and you’re spending your second free day of the week chilling with Dave as usual. You’d had a blast with him yesterday, and that’s saying a lot considering all you did was walk around and talk to each other.

Which is why you’re completely fine with doing the exact same thing today. You’ve been frequenting the park with him for the past hour, walking leisurely and talking about whatever comes to mind.

It’s kind of funny how this whole friendship thing sprang up. Looking back on it, it seems a little creepy in hindsight. Dave had literally cropped up out of nowhere and sprang a conversation onto you. You think you were out running some chores for your dad or something. You’re not sure, your memory is kind of fuzzy.

You’d ran into him in a convenient store while waiting in line. Not the usual place to try and start friendships, but hey, it happened. And you’re damn happy because he’s been such a cool bro to you. Your cousin Jake is fun to hang around and all, what with all his crazy stories about the island he lived on, but Dave has this indescribable charm to him that draws you in.

His humor is a little on the obscene side, though it’s carefully timed and always witty. He has a love for ironic things, whatever that means. You think it has something to do with memes, but you’re not sure.

He pokes fun at your love for all things Nic Cage and you like to retort that at least you don’t wear sunglasses at night. He tends to shut up after that. You have no idea why.

You tried prying on the issue once, and he was quick to shut you down. You think that maybe it has something to do with his eyes. That doesn’t sound too out of the way, considering the head full of platinum blonde hair and milky white skin he’s sporting. He looks like a ghost when he stands next to you, your slightly tanned skin looking darker than it actually is in comparison. You wonder what he’d look like next to your Pacific cousins.

His eyes must be sensitive to light. That’s a common trait with albinos, right? If he’s even albino that is. You’re not sure about that either. You get the inkling that maybe his sunglasses are some kind of prescription.

“You ever think about how we met?” You find yourself asking him.

He gives you a shrug, his red hoodie bunching up around the seems. His hands are buried in the front pocket, and you can’t blame him. It’s kind of the middle of winter and it’s a little freezing out today. At the least sun is shining through the clouds though. It gives you a little respite from the biting cold.

“Nah, not really.” His voice is monotonous, which is normal for him. You rarely ever hear him get expressive when he talks, unless it’s about rapping or mixing or whatever it is he does in his free time.

You chalk it up to him keeping with the whole “coolkid” facade he has going on. He thinks he’s so smooth and chill. You don’t really have any evidence saying otherwise, so there’s no punchline there.

“Really? Never? Because it’s kind of off the wall when you think about it.” It totally is. “Like, did you just see me standing and was like, ‘Oh hey, he looks like a neat person’ or something?”

Another nonchalant shrug. “You were the only other person who looked even remotely around my age and the line was a million fucking miles long. S’not that weird, man.”

“Kinda is.” You press, and he does this thing with his lips that let’s you know that he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t want to argue the issue.

“Are you complaining, Egbert?” He turns to look at you, all shades and schooled expression.

You shake your head vehemently. “No, not at all! Dude, you’ve become like...my best friend. Of course I’m not complaining. Sheesh.”

He spares you a smirk - trademark Strider, or at least what you’ve come to know. You’ve never actually seen him smile outright. It’s like the other side of his mouth refuses to cooperate. Maybe smiling is impossible for coolkids like him. You wouldn’t know, because you’re not like him.

You’d almost say that you were his opposite. You smile too much, you get really excited over the littlest things, and are probably the textbook definition of a dork, what with your square frames and passion for movies and pranks.

Maybe that’s why you like him so much. Because he’s new and exciting and everything you’re probably not. You wonder why he even likes you.

“Okay but, why did you keep talking to me afterwards? Don’t get me wrong! I think it’s awesome that we became friends and all. You’re pretty freaking cool, Dave. But, me?” You trail off, uncertainty tainting your voice.

You feel yourself shrink a little when he turns and fixes you with a look that you can only describe as a mixture of ‘being completely and utterly done’ and ‘what the fuck kind of question is that’.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Bingo. “Seriously? Dude, this whole bottomed-out self esteem issue doesn't fit you.”

It’s not quite an issue of self esteem. You’ve never really had issues with your image. But Dave looks like he’s more fit to hang with people of his own kind than you. You feel almost stale in comparison to him sometimes, like you’re dried up rye bread and he’s fancy italian herb and cheese.

“It’s not that.” You end up mumbling, more to yourself than anything, but you think he hears. He’s strangely perceptive like that.

He sighs, dropping his head to look at the ground as he slows his pace a little. “We’ve been over this, you know. You really need to kick the ‘woe is me I’m not nearly as interesting as you’ gimmick. Shit’s not true and you know it.”

This is his attempt at making you feel better, and it works for the most part. You allow yourself a small smile, zeroing in on his words. “You saying I’m cool, Dave?”

When he cranes his head back up to look at you, he’s fixing you with a shit-eating smirk. “Hell no. You’re a geek ass nerd.” A pause. “Which is totally fine. I always wanted a patented dorky pal. Everyone needs one. The ensemble isn’t complete until you have that one friend spouting useless bullshit about video games or whatever.”

“Movies.” You correct him.

“Shitty Nic Cage movies about stuffed rabbits and redemption.”

“You take that back. They’re amazing and I won’t have you sullying Cage’s career like that.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that they’re still one-hundred percent factually shitty.”

You bump him in the arm roughly with your hand. He doesn’t budge.

Faster than you'd like, the afternoon fades away into dusk, and soon the two of you have to part ways. He promises to message you later, and you feel excited at the mere prospect of being able to talk to him again so soon.

You like Dave. A lot.

* * *

  **== > Be Jake**

You’re Jake again, and boy if you don’t feel like you just woke up from a 10 year coma.

You hazard a stretch, finding all your limbs to be unpleasantly stiff. A scratchy groan escapes you as you try to sit up and find that your vision is kind of swimming and the room doesn’t seem all that up-right.

Stiffness and weird vertigo aside, you swing your legs off the couch and are now in a sitting position with your head in your hands. Your fingers run through your dark hair and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will yourself back into a completely level sense of mind.

The absence of your glasses on your face takes you by surprise, and you glance around warily until you find them sitting on the end table at the end of the couch. You reach for them, careful of how much you’re moving right now. When you slip them on, you’re relieved to see everything with clarity now.

What the hell happened and why are you down in your basement?

You can’t tell how much time has passed or what time it currently is. There’s no clock in the basement and the dim light shining through the window at the top of the wall doesn’t tell you much.

The next couple minutes is spent sitting on the couch, trying to rein yourself in from whatever weird physical blanket of exhaustion that’s covering you right now. After about 10 minutes of merely sitting, you hazard an effort of standing up, and find that you’re still pretty dizzy. And parched. Your throat is so dry and you also realize that you’re kind of starving too.

You go about stretching a little, trying to work the crinks out of your limbs. You tilt your neck to pop it and when you do, you’re met with a soreness that makes you cringe and curse. It’s not a stiff neck and it feels almost raw, like the pain is on the outside.

When you reach up to try and rub the pain away, you’re met with slightly marred flesh and even more tenderness. Your hand freezes and you still immediately. Your eyes are open wide now and you think you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

Your fingers glide across the side of your neck again and you feel the distinct shape of what you can only describe as teeth marks.

Without hesitating a second longer, you’re suddenly running up the stairs and only stopping when you’ve reached the bathroom. You flick the light on and the sight greeting you is shocking to say the least.

You pull your collar down and yep, those are definitely teeth marks. And that dark red stuff is definitely blood staining your collar. Your neck looks like it got into a fight with Floyd “Money” Mayweather and judging by the dark blue and purple bruises marring it, you guess that you lost sorely.

There’s more blood staining your shirt around the shoulder and you begrudgingly pull your collar down even more. There’s another set of matching teeth marks there too, and the bruises are just as vivid.

You’d probably be freaking the fuck out right now, asking yourself what the hell happened. But you’re too busy freaking the fuck out about all the memories that are suddenly bombarding you from last night. You lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut, and the stream of curses that leave your mouth border on hysteric. “Oh no, oh no, oh shit shit shit. This is bad, this is bad.”

In your state of paranoia and panic, you end up pacing the floor of your bathroom, your hands wringing through your hair and hesitantly touching your neck every once in a while.

The demon broke free. The demon got away. And more importantly, he sank his teeth into you and made you his meal last night.

“Fuck, he’s probably out there warning his brother right now and I messed up so bad. All my days, I can’t believe how royally screwed I just made John and myself. This was so stupid, so so stupid…”

Your thoughts immediately fly to Jade, and you wonder if she came home yet. You leave the bathroom in a hurry and search the house for her. She’s not in her room and not in the den or kitchen. She’s probably still at her friend’s house and you heave a sigh of relief that she’s not here right now witnessing your mental breakdown.

You go to the phone hanging on the wall, grabbing the piece of paper that Jade pinned on the wooden board beside it. You figure she’s alright right now, but you still want to call and check on her. That, and you really just need someone to talk to because you’re kind of flipping the fuck out.

The phone only rings a couple times, and Jade is the one who finally picks up. Her friend must have seen the name on the caller ID. “Jake, hi! Why are you calling?”

You focus on leveling your voice out, trying to sound as normal as possible. “No reason, really! I just wanted to see how you were faring is all.”

“Oh...well, I’m doing great! Rose is always a blast to be around. Besides all the psychoanalysis stuff, but even that can be kind of fun sometimes.” She doesn’t comment on your tone, so you think she’s still blissfully unaware of what’s going on. Good.

“That’s good! Um, when do you plan on returning home?” Your fingers are itching to poke and prod at your neck, but you refrain from doing so. You really need a change of clothes. And a first aid kid. And maybe an hour long shower while you’re at it.

“Well, I was planning on coming home this evening. I figured I wouldn’t tie Rose up for the entire weekend.”

That’s the thing about Jade. She’s still in school and you graduated 3 years ago. She’s the same age as John, so their free time is purely on the weekends. They still have the rest of this year and the next to go before graduating.

“Oh. Do you need me to pick you up?” You lean against the wall, and yeah, talking to Jade was a good idea. You’re feeling calmer and now that your head isn’t a jumbled mess of ‘oh shit’, you think you might be able to actually access the situation.

“No, no! That’s fine. Rose already told me that she’ll drive me home today.” You hear a voice lulling in the background, and it sounds like Rose is talking. You met Rose a couple years ago when you and Jade first moved here. She was probably the first friend your sister made, aside from family like John.

“Alright then, as long as you have a way home. And, Jade?” You pause, thoughtful for a second. Your sister is aware of demons, same as you, but she’s completely clueless to the situation going on. You’re not sure if the demon you dealt with last night is a particularly vengeful one. You’re still worried for her safety however.

Just what you needed. Another family member to worry yourself sick about.

“What is it, Jake?”

“Please be careful. Just...watch out for yourself. If anything strange happens, please tell me.” You’ve told her this a thousand times and she’s repeated the same thing back to you. Pity how you didn’t keep your end of the promise. You think she’s better off not knowing for now.

If it escalates or you truly need someone to confide in, then you’ll tell her.

“I promise I will! And you better do the same, you hear me?” You swear you almost hear her glaring into the phone, something she always does when she really wants to get her point across.

“Absolutely. Of course, no need to worry!” You can’t keep the nervous tone out of your voice. You were always kind of a bad liar. True gentlemen don’t lie and you’re not well-versed in deception.

If she hears it, she doesn’t say anything. “I’ll see you later, Jake!”

You both say your goodbyes and hang up. You're immediately reminded of your empty stomach when it growls. Your tongue feels almost like sandpaper now. Talking on the phone didn’t help that at all.

First things first though. You really need to patch yourself up. You’re suddenly glad that it’s winter, because you figure you’re going to be wearing scarves for a while now.

* * *

  **== > Be Dirk**

Well that was quite a night. You didn’t think things would take a turn like that, but you’re not particularly upset that they did.

When you’d found out that someone was tailing your brother, you decided that wasn’t going to fly. Yeah, Dave’s a little shit and all, but the second his safety comes into play, big brother mode comes on and you’re at the forefront of that business.

Your mind had immediately flown to the worst possible scenario. A hunter was tracking your baby bro down and was planning on putting his head on a spike. Hunters weren’t exactly common anymore, but you’d rather assume the worst than try and act like everything was hunky dory.

Color you surprised when it turned out to be a clumsy human who clearly had no idea what they were doing. A clumsy human who happened to be attractive to you in all the right ways and had your thoughts in the gutter for a few seconds, but this isn’t important and ugh stop thinking about that.

You’d planned on maybe giving him a firm talk or some shit. Maybe scaring him away. When he’d starting chanting Latin at you, you found the situation a little humorous. When the words actually began to hurt, it wasn’t so funny anymore.

Mostly you were just surprised. Not just anyone was able to recite Latin and subdue you. It took a real magically fortified person to bring you down, but somehow this guy, in all his shaking boots and terror, had somehow made it work.

You’re not weak, by any means. In fact, you like to think you’re grade-A premium badass served up on a golden platter of sexy. Point being: you’re kind of strong, way above the average demon. That what happens when you survive for centuries and train your ass off and feed off of a couple thousand people.

The longer one of your kind lives, the stronger they become.

And yet, you’d been successfully quelled. You figure that if you hadn’t been laughing at him, you most likely could have wrapped a hand around his neck and stopped the flow of the words. You’ll admit, you let your guard down, and that’s kind of embarrassing.

When you woke up and found yourself covered in silver, you weren’t happy. Cue first instinct: hiss at whatever was hurting you.

The look of fear in your captor’s eyes was pretty amusing. He seriously had no idea what he was doing.

Speaking of inexperience, the silver chains around you were little and thin. It’d hurt a little bit, but you could break them with relative ease. However, you’re smarter than that. So instead of escaping immediately, you sat and listened. You wanted to know what this guy’s deal was. And maybe if he was dumb enough, you could find out what he was planning.

So when it turned out he was only scared for his cousin’s well being, you found it both a little endearing and really fucking annoying.

You figured his cousin was that John kid your little bro was suddenly so smitten with. They looked enough alike, what with the dark hair, glasses, and dorky front teeth that definitely weren’t adorable in any shape or form no siree absolutely not.

You know Dave wouldn’t hurt that kid for anything in the world. Your brother might act like he’s a stone cold killer or whatever, but you know he really cares for John. He couldn’t hide that from you. You’re just too good at reading him.

What really got to you though was how quick he was to accuse you and your bro of being stereotypical monsters. Now you’re not really at the whole spearhead of the “demons are people too bluh bluh” campaign, but man if it doesn’t piss you off when people lump you all into the same category.

You’ve done some shady and morally bad shit over the years, but damn, you try to be somewhat good. You don’t go out of your way to kill people unless they threaten you first. When you feed, you never kill your victims. If you suspect that a demon is wreaking just a little bit too much havoc in a city you’re in, you take care of them personally.

You’re not the best stand-up guy, but you’re not bad either.

You tried relaying this to your captor and you think you saw him hesitate for a moment. But then he’d just grabbed his pistols and stubbornly refused to believe you.

That was the end of the information round, and you knew you had other places to be. When he pointed his pistols at your face, that was your cue to go.

Admittedly, you didn’t mean to turn this into a feeding session, but when you’d broken free, captured his wrists and held him down, the sweet scent wafting off of him had lured you in and suddenly you weren’t thinking with your head, but instead your appetite.

That, and maybe you were also a little drawn in by how attractive he was up close and suddenly your mind is wandering in dirty places and you’re wondering what he’d sound like moaning and writhing.

He struggled and put up a hell of a fight. Damn, he was pretty strong, even by human standards. His elbows had dug into your ribs a little, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. Still kind of hurt, though.

The moment your tongue had touched his skin, you had to suppress a shudder because holy shit, the flavor of it alone is something else entirely and you haven’t even bitten into him yet.

When you did sink your teeth into him, you weren’t prepared for the moment his blood hit your tongue. You’d almost lost yourself right there and then, and the memory of that still kind of scares you. You haven’t had trouble with your control for a long, long time.

But you reeled yourself back in and you focused on feeding. And goddamn, if he wasn’t the best thing you’d ever tasted in your whole damn life. You gulped down mouthful after mouthful of his blood and the way it made you feel was unlike any other feeding session you've had. You don’t think you’d ever felt so vibrant and powerful before.

You don’t know why his blood made you feel that way, and you don’t care.

Then the venom from your bite had taken hold of him and the sounds that spilled out of him thrilled you to your core. Arousal during feeding isn’t exactly uncommon for you, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on before.

The fact that he was wiggling around and writhing on your lap wasn’t helping matters.

You went on to bite him a second time, and you didn’t usually do that. But his pleading state of ecstasy was something you wanted to prolong and the taste of his blood egged you on as well. By the time you were done, he’d all but surrendered himself to you, his head tilted back on your shoulder and lips parted in a breathy expression of pleasure.

Despite what he’d done, you somehow felt less inclined to be angry with him. You knew his hatred and distrust was a product of myth and misconceptions, so you wouldn’t hold it against him. Not this time, at least.

For a moment, you’d contemplated erasing his memories of you. All you’d have to do it tilt his head up and capture his foggy green eyes with yours, and he would never know who you were. But you knew that wouldn’t work. Somehow he knew what your little brother was and he’d find out again. He’d try this again, and you know it. So you leave him be.

You know this is going to spawn a whole load of bullshit between you and him. That this isn’t just going to be swept under the rug and forgotten about. You’ll have to keep an eye on him and your brother from now on.

You carried his barely conscious form over to the couch he had set up in the room. When you had laid him down, his eyes momentarily found your shape. They were half lidded and barely focused.

Carefully, you plucked his glasses off of his face, and sat them on the end table by the couch. It took you by surprise when you found your own shades sitting there. Would you look at that. He’d even thought to bring your shades with him.

That’s a little adorable and you were suddenly hit with just how innocent this guy is. He’s probably never harmed a single person in his life, despite all his bravado. Your eyes had fallen on his face once more, and you don’t know why, but you’d bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. For now, you’ll chalk it up to you just wanting to know how they’d feel against yours. You totally weren’t momentarily endeared by him. Nope.

You retrieved your trademark sunglasses, but before you had slipped them back on, you caught his half conscious gaze with yours.

You told him to sleep and then he was out like a light.

So now here you are, sitting up on the roof of some building you just scaled, legs hanging precariously off the edge. Your shades are back on your face and despite the dark tint to them, you can still see everything in the night clearly.

As much as you don’t want to, you have to warn Dave about the situation. Your little brother is going to be pissed, mainly because he doesn’t want anything to throw a wedge between him and John.

You bring out your phone and hit speed dial with a sigh. When he picks up, your voice sounds a little fatigued. “Hey little bro. We gotta talk about something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions/criticism regarding the story? My Tumblr: http://destineytots.tumblr.com.


	3. Do Not Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons are stubborn as hell and Dave is a little worried.

**== > Be Jake**

Somehow or another, a week flew by without you hardly noticing. It might have had something to do with the fact that you spent it brainstorming and assessing the current situation; wracking your brain for what your next move should be, how you were going to fix this mess, and so on.

You kept tabs on John as best as you could without seeming like a total stalker. You saw him off to school early in the mornings and made sure he was home by the time 3pm rolled around. You called once every two days, chalking it up to an excuse for him to talk to his amazing older cousin.

Jade of course questioned why you were suddenly in overdrive. Nothing went past your sister and sometimes you hated that. You know you’ll only be able to lie to her for so long before she squeezes the truth out of you. For now, though, you keep your lips sealed and deflect her questions.

You read over your grandfather’s dusty old book again, the same one that allowed you to capture the demon. You end up spending most of the week sifting through his old books, siphoning them for any kind of information that might keep demons out and way. There was something about sigils in there, things you could slather around in blood and if instilled with the right type of magic, could keep demons from entering homes and places.

John probably wouldn’t be too happy about having bloody, satanic looking symbols painted on his house. That, and you’ve never dabbled with magic in your life. You’re not sure magic is even real, so that option is completely out the window.

Nonetheless, you learn some (hopefully) useful things about demons. For one, you learn about the venom in their bites. Once they sink their teeth into you, that’s usually the end. The venom acts as both a numbing agent and a strange sort of aphrodisiac that eases the act of feeding. You remember how willing and compliant the venom had made you, and you fail miserably at keeping the red out of your cheeks.

Moving along now. There was some tidbits about how to correctly dispose of a demon. Their bodies are unlike humans, able to withstand heavy amounts of damage before succumbing to death. Not even stabbing them in their cold, black hearts will kill them. Decapitation is the only way to go.

“You gotta go the fully monty with these monsters. Good lord…” You carefully flip through the pages, wary of how thin and brittle they are. You wonder how old these books actually are.

There were some other things that legitimately took you by surprise. For example, the entire myth of vampires being simply that: a myth spawned from the existence of demons. There are no actual monsters out there that fear the light. There is, however, an entire tree of subtypes and archetypes that demons fall under. You guess that’s why there are so many different stories about monsters spread throughout the world. Demons are incredibly diverse in their traits and nature, it seems.

As you were about to finish the last book of your reading, your eyes had caught a small passage on the last page of the book. Written in elegant cursive writing was a sort of rite.

_“It is our sworn duty to protect and shield the world from the darkness that seeps out of Derse. The human realm is a plane rife with unholy creatures who desire nothing more than to leech off the human race. We are no more than food to them, a means to an end. If we do not learn to protect ourselves, then who will?”_

_\- Rowland Harley_

“Harley?” Your eyes latch onto the last name. It’s not unfamiliar, not in the least. It was the name your grandfather had taken, and your sister had as well. Your last name would be Harley too if your mother hadn’t insisted on her firstborn having her maiden name. At least, that’s what your grandfather had told you when you’d asked him about it.

Judging by how old the book itself is, you bet it was passed down to your grandfather from an older family member. You guess you know for sure now that the knowledge of demons isn’t something unfamiliar to the older generations of your family. It’s kind of cool when you think about it. It’s almost like your family is a protector of secrets or something.

That thought makes you smile.

Something else had also caught your attention. The word Derse. What was that? Was it just another buried word for hell or did demons come from a specific dimension of some sort? You’ll have to look for some more information on that later.

You officially close the book and set it back on the stack with the others. A cloud of dust poofs up from the impact it makes and you try your damndest not to sneeze. You fail.

* * *

**Jake == > Fast forward to Friday evening**

It is now Friday evening and you’re out once again watching John and his demon “friend”. Only this time, you have no intentions of trying to interfere. Instead, you just study them from afar, always careful of the distance between you and them.

His dad had dropped them both off at the mall and you’d followed in your own vehicle. They’re currently situated in a rest area, sitting lazily on the display couches and talking like they always do. You note how the younger demon brother slowly and casually works closer to John until he’s all but pressed up against him.

Your stomach clenches in anxiety. Images of the younger demon feeding off of John enter your mind, and you furiously shake them away.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to register the presence that is suddenly behind you. When you feel a hand land on your shoulder, you nearly jump out of your skin.

The person you see when you turn makes the color drain from your face. There he is again, stylish blonde hair and pointy shades. And he’s currently fixated on you, with little to no room between the two of you.

You go to abscond immediately, but the hand suddenly holding your forearm keeps you from running away.

“Ugh, get stuffed you demon scum! Unhand me right this instant!” You try your best to tug your arm away, but that all too familiar steel grip holds you in place. He closes the gap between you and him and ends up capturing your other arm. You struggle even harder and feel a little smug when you see him visibly struggle to keep you held down this time.

“Will you stop struggling, goddamnit. You’re making a scene.” He glances around the two of you warily and tries to tug you out of view.

“I’d rather soon have the entirety of Washington gazing upon me than stand here one second longer with you! I haven’t forgotten what you did to me!” You swear the intensity of your glare could melt even the strongest steel.

It’s his turn to look miffed. You see his eyebrows furrow a little. “Will you just calm your shit for one second and listen to me? I came to talk, not to fight.”

You give a particularly hard tug and one of your arms manages to slide free. You pull it back and swing forward, not wasting a second. “Talk to my fist!”

Your fist connects with his cheek and his head is knocked to the side, his shades going a little askew on his face. You stand there, huffing for a moment, your arm still stretched out between you. And then it hits you.

“Ow, fuck! What in blazes are you made of?!” You yank your fist back, cradling the bruised knuckles in your other hand. It felt like you just punched a goddamn brickhouse. You’re pretty sure faces aren’t supposed to be that stout.

Just something else you learned about demons, you guess.

The demon is no longer stunned from your attack, but instead looking off in the distance, his face still turned. His skin shows no signs of bruising whatsoever. He’s stock still and you swear you can’t even see him breathing. You hold your breath, preparing for a backlash of some sort. Unarmed, in the middle of a mall, and sorely outmatched, you’re suddenly very fearful for your own life.

When he speaks, it takes you off guard. “Okay, I would say that’s a bad idea, but I probably deserve that much. You feel better yet?” He’s finally turned to face you, righting the position of his shades until they’re set perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

As weird as it sounds, yeah, you do feel better. Immensely so. Even though your fist is doing its best impression of your beating heart, punching him felt like lifting a dumbbell off of your chest. “Yeah...yeah, I-” You pause, speechless for a second. And then you’re exasperated once again. “Wait, why am I even speaking to you? You’re a demon! Furthermore, why are you speaking to me? What in bloody hell is going on here?”

He places a hand on his hip and fixes you with an irritated look. “How about we start with the fact that I have a name? And you should start using it. It’s Dirk. Second,” He holds up his finger, as if to keep your attention. “I came to talk about last weekend. And my little bro. And your dorky cousin. And why this entire shit storm is just one big misunderstanding.”

With your blood still hot in your veins, you scoff and actually roll your eyes at him. “A big misunderstanding? Why of course! I for one can’t understand why I’m still here allowing you to speak to me. Secondly, I would surely appreciate it if you and your troublemaking brother packed up and left my family alone. Thanks in advance, if you catch my cold.”

“Not like I planned on actually humoring you, but I don’t think I could tear my little bro away from John even if I wanted to. He’s got his claws sank in too deep already.” The sudden look of horror on your face must have easily shown, because he’s already backtracking and correcting himself. “Figuratively. I meant it figuratively, damn it. I already told you he doesn’t plan on hurting John.”

“Why should I believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth? As far as I’m concerned, your entire kind is only out for blood and twisted fun.”

The demon - Dirk - sighs, and pushes his shades down a little so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. “Then just- give me the benefit of the doubt right now, okay? If you don’t plan on believing me right away, then at least sit and listen to what I have to say.”

Of course you don’t want to listen to anything he has to say. More than anything, you just want to snatch John up and flee the mall as fast as possible. Maybe retreat back into your house, lock and bar all the doors, and sit in a corner with your pistols until they inevitably come for you.

A grimace graces your face. You’re really starting to sound like a real looney now.

You look at Dirk’s face, and you mean really look at him. You think there might be an underlying plea there in his mostly neutral expression. You don’t believe him for a second, but you know he won’t relent until you listen.

A weary sigh leaves you. “Fine. I’ll listen to whatever spiel you plan on spouting. But don’t bank on me believing any of your false sincerity.”

A fraction of his expression shifts a little bit and you think his lips might be twitching into a small smirk. “That’s good enough for me. As long as you’re willing to hear me out.”

The two of you migrate over to a quieter, less populated section of the mall. You can still hear and see people off in the distance, so you’re not immediately afraid. You’re still incredibly wary, though.

“Alright then, Dirk.” His name rolls of your tongue drenched in venom. “Speak up now or forever hold your peace.”

He exhales, his cheeks puffing out. You can tell he’s trying to compile his thoughts together before he speaks. “Alright, let’s start with the most important thing: my little brother and I aren’t the monsters you think we are.”

You open your mouth to object immediately, but he hushes you by holding his hand up and continuing before you can get the words out.

“Listen to me! I get it, okay? You guys are basically raised on the foundation that our kind are the absolute scum of the earth, and I get it. Yeah, a lot of us are. I won’t deny that noise. But some of us aren’t. Some of us actually try to live somewhat normally, you know? My point is that me and my brother- we’re not out to hurt you or your cousin or anyone in your fucking family.”

You’re itching to speak up and deny what you honestly believe to be nothing but deception, but you hold yourself steady. You know he’s just trying to trick you into letting your guard down, and yet…

He sounds so sincere.

“And maybe what I did to you wasn’t the coolest shit.” He motions to the green check scarf you have wrapped around your neck and your fingers grab onto the material protectively. Your neck looks a lot better after a week of healing, but the bruises and signs of his fangs are still there, albeit yellowed and slightly scabbed over.

“I got lost in the heat of the moment, I’ll admit that. And I’ll apologize right now. Sorry about that. Won’t happen a-fucking-gain. Score one for stereotypical demonic nature. You have every right to dislike me for that. But don’t act like my brother is out to kill your innocent little cousin. Or that I’m out for blood and I’m going to hunt every single one of your lame-ass family members down and off them. Because I’m not. You and me? We’re cool. At least on my end.”

“Are you done now?” You ask him, and he simply nods. “Good. Because I wasn’t feeling inclined to listen to much more of that.”

His face is blank when he asks you, or more so simply states, “You don’t believe me.”

“Of course I don’t. Not for a second. I’ve been taught better, you know.” You shift your weight from one foot to the next and look around yourself. “I’ll be taking my leave now. Stay away from me. And my cousin. Try passing on that warning to your brother as well.”

You turn to leave, and make it about 5 feet before you hear him say, “You’ll think about it, though.”

You wouldn’t call the pause before your answer hesitation. “I won’t.”

You leave and he doesn’t make an attempt to follow you.

* * *

**== > Be Dave**

When your bro had explained to you what was going on, you were more than a little pissed.

Absolutely livid sounds more like it.

You can’t say you blame John’s cousin for being so protective, but damn, if it still isn’t annoying as fuck and a possible threat to yours and John’s relationship. Well...friendship. You wish it were a full-blown relationship, but patience is a virtue and blah blah blah.

You’re not too scared though. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry about it.” Had been the exact words out of Dirk’s mouth. You and your big bro might not always get along, but if he says he has your back, then he has your back.

So you go about your business with John as usual. When you’re not at home mixing up some raw, sick beats or contributing new pieces to your online comic, you’re cramming in as much time as possible with John.

You just can't fathom how you've become so drawn to a single person in such a short time. 

He was just a dorky guy you saw while scouring a convenience store for apple juice. And yet, the second you laid eyes on him, you felt this magnetic pull. Like you couldn’t leave without trying to talk to him. You felt as though you would have missed out on something epic if you had. Something that day had pinned you down and made you seek John out before leaving.

When you’d told Dirk about this, he’d explained that sometimes your kind was just attracted to certain humans. That certain people just have that way about them that demons can’t resist. Whether it be the smell of their blood or how innocent they are.

You are no stranger to attraction, whether it be aesthetic or sexual. Yet, John seemed to encompass all that plus more. You weren’t just drawn to his blood, or his body, but _everything_ about him.

You didn’t want to just feed off of him or sleep with him. Though you wouldn’t object to either of those things if the opportunity ever arose. You’re still a demon and you have primal urges and desires. But you would never hurt John. Not for anything in the world.

If anything, you’d protect him to the ends of the earth.

“Whatever you do, don’t smash up his cousin or anything.” You’d told Dirk through the phone.

“I have no intentions of doing that.”

“Good.” The last thing you needed was an emotionally distraught Egbert and hypothetical blood on your hands. Because you’d know who did it and you’re not sure if you could look John in the eyes anymore after that.

For now though, you’ll let your bro handle things. Hopefully in a few days, things won’t be so cluttered anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions or criticism? My Tumblr: http://destineytots.tumblr.com.


	4. Speaking Before Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake tries to intervene and Dirk likes to show up unannounced.

**== > Be John**

Some might say that you’ve been spending way too much time with one Dave Strider, but you have half the mind to tell those people to fuck right off. He’s your best bro and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to spend all your weekends chilling with him. Nothing at all, nope.

This is quality bro time, and bro time is high up on the ladder of things that are important to you. It’s only surpassed by your family and school work. Well, maybe not so much school work. You don’t slack off for one second because you like to think you’re a responsible young man, but you doubt you’d miss the opportunity to say the hell with it all if it meant getting to spend even more time with Dave.

Lucky for you, he understands how important school is to you so he’s sure to only pester you on the weekends and evenings when you’re not busy with school-related matters.  

Speaking of school, when you’d asked Dave what school he attended since he obviously didn’t attend yours, he’d replied that his older brother homeschooled him. As far as you know, you and Dave are the same age: both 17 years old.

Now that your mind is currently on Dave Dave Dave, you feel another round of 20 questions bubbling to the surface. It’s Saturday afternoon and the two of you are holed up in your room. The weather wasn’t permitting today, a mixture of snow and sleet coming down miserably outside. You can hear it bouncing off your window, and in the dim light of your bedroom and the comfort of your bed, it’s strangely relaxing.

To anyone else, this scene might hold some weird intimate connotation. Just you and Dave chilling on your bed, talking up a storm like you always do. You’re adamant in your defense that there is most certainly nothing wrong with the current picture right now. Nope, no funny business. None at all.

“So Dave, how old is your brother exactly?” You’d been curious, you won’t lie. From what you’ve heard about him and his mannerisms, he can’t be too old.

“He’s like 22 or something. Took custody of my mess as soon as he was of age. We bounced around in foster care for a while.” He’s chilling against your pile of pillows against the headboard, bouncing his phone idly in his lap. You’re at the end of the bed, lying flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

“Oh shoot. I didn’t know. Sorry about that.”

“S’cool. Not as bad as you think.” He replies, his words bleeding into each other.

“So...what does he do for a living? It’s gotta be hard being so young and taking care of the both of you, you know? I know I couldn’t do it, that’s for sure.”

“He snagged a pretty good job as a DJ at some exclusive club or something. When he’s not mixing up a storm, he’s marketing his robots or dishing out a new brand of his weird ass smuppets.”

Your eyebrows raise. You’re impressed by his brother’s tenacity. And robotics? That’s kind of neat. Though the smuppets part sounds like something you don’t want to touch with a ten foot pole. “That sounds pretty awesome, especially the part about robots or whatever. But how does he make time to homeschool you? Sounds like he’s a pretty busy guy if you ask me!”

Dave merely shrugs, and leaves his phone resting on his thigh. “I dunno, man. He just makes it work. Don’t ask me how he doesn’t spontaneously combust from all his responsibilities. And I’m using that word lightly. Dude gets too into his puppet business and robots. Weirds me out a little at times.”

“Sounds like he really works his ass off for you. You’re lucky to have a big brother like that, you know?” If you were in Dave’s situation, you know you’d be eternally grateful to his brother. Weird puppets and all aside. “Closest thing I have to a brother is my cousin Jake.”

“The guy with the super thick British accent who sounds like he stepped right out of Doctor Who, right?”

You laugh at the comparison and find that it suits Jake perfectly. You’d mentioned Jake to Dave a few times and commented on how silly his vocabulary could be. “Yeah, that’s him. He grew up on some island with our grandpa somewhere in the Pacific or something. He has a sister named Jade who used to have a strong English accent too, but she’s grown out of it in the recent years. I guess he just couldn’t let his go.”

“No shit, they lived on an island?” For once, you hear surprise in Dave’s voice.

You nod. “Yeah, apparently our grandpa was loaded or something. When Jake and Jade’s parents died in an accident, he took them in. In fact, they were homeschooled like you until our grandpa passed away. They were forced to move to the mainland, and now here they are. My dad took up legal guardianship of them until Jake was old enough to do it himself.”

“Huh. So do your cousins or whatever live nearby?” Dave has sat up from his spot against the pillows now and has scooted down the bed a ways so he’s looking down at you through his shades.

You try not to notice how he’s suddenly in your personal bubble. More specifically, you try not to notice how warm and on edge that suddenly makes you. “They’re about a 5 minute drive away. 30 minutes if you’re walking. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t seen either of them yet, because they visit pretty often. Well, Jake visits more than Jade, but I figure she just likes hanging with Rose a lot more.”

“Figured you’d be all down in the dumps or something over that.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “Nah, I don’t take any offense to it. Jade and I are still super good friends. I guess it’s just a thing between girls or something, you know?”

“Like how you and I do our best impression of two dicks trapped in a Chinese finger trap?” He’s staring down at you with an amused smirk, hands resting on top of each other across his ankles. He’s leaning down a bit and your attention is drawn to nothing but the paleness of his skin, the equally pale hair that hangs down across his shades a little, and the blackness of said eyewear.

You feel heat ambush your cheeks and turn your head to the side so you don’t have to look at him. “Oh come on, it’s not at all like that. And if you’re not comfortable with how much we hang out, just say something.” Your voice drops low on the last sentence, a tinge of reluctance hidden in it.  

“John. What the fuck.” As much as you want to look at him to see what’s going on, you adamantly keep your eyes averted.

When you feel him flick your temple, you shoot up immediately from your spot on the bed, rubbing where his fingers assaulted you. “Ow, Dave! Why did you do that?”

His arms are crossed over his chest now and you can only assume that the look he’s giving you right now is a criticizing one. “For being a dumbass. Seriously man, how many times do I gotta tell you to drop the whole insecurity shtick? We’re best bros, the tightest motherfuckers ever, and quite frankly, I don’t think I’d like to spend my time anywhere else but here, chilling with you.”

You’re still rubbing your temple and you were content to glare him into submission until he apologized, but your face softens at his words and you find that your throat suddenly feels swollen. Except not really, because you know what a swollen throat really feels like and you’ll never test out peanuts ever again in your hopefully long life.

It’s you who ends up apologizing. “Dave, I’m sor-”

He holds up his hand to shoosh you. “S’fine. Don’t sweat it. Just...seriously dude, stop doing that. You gotta stop acting like I don’t want anything to do with you. Because that’s bullshit.”

“I know, but it’s just….arghhh. It’s so hard to put into words.” You’re sitting like he is now and your eyes are staring holes into your bed sheets. “You’re this big enigma coolkid who makes ‘sick beats’ and has a popular online comic and apparently has cool sword fights with his older bro, and I’m just. John Egbert. Someone who likes stupid movies and stupid pranks and doesn’t really do anything cool at all.”

When you feel his finger press up against your lips, your head snaps up in surprise. His finger doesn't leave your lips.

“No. Stop. None of that. Shame on you, Egbert. Nope. That’s it. No more shit outta you.”

You try to speak, but he just shooshes you even more and leans closer.

“The Egbert-Shit-Talking capacity has reached its limit today and will not be taking any more submissions. In fact, we’re discontinuing the service entirely because it’s all kind of a big pile of dicks. No, screw that. We’re completely outlawing it. Anyone who tries to slander John Egbert’s name is officially fucked and will promptly have a sword shoved up their ass.”

There’s a pause, and look of bewilderment from you. You try to talk again, but he just repeats his actions from before, leaning in even closer. You can actually make out the shapes of his eyes from behind his shades now, but you can’t tell what color they are. The secret eats away at you.

He remains that way, making sure you’re not going to open your mouth up and slam yourself anymore. His finger eventually slides off your lips and you’re left staring at him quietly. The silence in the room is suddenly overwhelming and somehow deafening in its own right.

It feels as though your heart has jumped up into your throat and your tongue is too big for your mouth. You can’t find the words to say anything and you can’t break your eyes away from Dave. It’s like staring down a trainwreck, only the train is some beautiful creature way out of your league and the path of chaos it’s carving is moving right past you as if it has bigger and better things to wreck.

Holy shit, did you just call Dave beautiful?

You can’t answer that question because you find your body leaning forward of its own accord and you can’t seem to wrench yourself back. Your head is tilting at a slight angle and you swear you see Dave mirroring your actions. You feel his cold hands (why are they so cold?) on your wrists, unaware that he had even reached for them.

And then your door is thrown open in a fashion that could only belong to one person.

“Tally ho there, John!”

The speed at which you pull yourself back nearly has you rolling over the side of your bed. You faintly hear Dave sigh, but the majority of your attention is mostly compromised at the moment.

You almost kissed Dave. And he was willing to reciprocate.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve swung by. Jade is busy working on a wallop of a project for one of her classes, and I-” You hear him stop mid sentence.

Despite how willing you are to simply lay there and fester in your own embarrassment, you sit up to see what has Jake so quiet all of a sudden. Your answer is easy to find. His green eyes are currently transfixed on Dave, who has suddenly gone stock still himself.

Your eyes immediately take notice of how tense he appears, his lips drawn into a tight, pale line and his fingers dug into his dark jeans. When your eyes wander to Jake, you notice that he’s also tensed up as well, almost frozen in mid step. You see his expression dissolve into a grimace and your gut twists a little.

The tense air is becoming a little too much for you, so you do what you think is best and break the silence yourself.” Oh, hey there Jake!” You try to put on your best smile and motion over to Dave. “This is my friend Dave. Dave, this is my cousin you’ve heard about.”

Dave has yet to move an inch, and you’re starting to become a little worried.You have no idea why your cousin and bro are staring daggers at each other. Dave seemed completely fine when you mentioned Jake to him earlier. What on earth was going on?”

“Yes, I...know about your friend. I’ve heard about him before.” Jake finally moves, though cautiously, as if Dave is a wild animal or something. He keeps a clear distance between himself and Dave, though his green eyes are now locked on you.

Jake comes to a standstill near your bed, but the tense lines never leave his body. “Yeah, I guess I have mentioned him to you before. But this is the first time you’ve guys have met! ...Right?”

“First time I’ve ever seen this guy in person.” Dave comments stiffly, and his voice has a foreign, serious edge to it. It sounds nothing like Dave’s sarcastic, casual drawl.

You laugh nervously. “Yeah. Yeah! I figured that much, seeing as how we were talking about him earlier and we totally reaffirmed that you didn’t know him and you probably would have recognized him by the way I was describing him and-” Oh god, you’re starting to ramble a little now and you really need to put a lid on it before your voice starts to do that thing where it cracks when you’re nervous.

“John, can we talk for a moment?” Jake’s eyes flit back to Dave momentarily. “In private, if you don’t mind?”

“Uh, sure. Let me just…” You turn to Dave, shooting him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this. It must be really important or something. Are you gonna be alright for a few min-”

Dave is sliding off your bed before you can finish. “I should probably get home. Talk to you later, John.” He’s out your bedroom door before you have time to protest. His sudden absence leaves you feeling empty and unfulfilled.

When you turn back to Jake, it’s with a glare. “What was that?”

He fixes you with a confused look. “What was what?”

“That!” You throw your arms up in an exasperated fashion. “That whole glare deathmatch thing. You just came in and scared my friend away with how hard you were glaring at him. Seriously Jake, what the hell was that?”

Your cousin looks taken aback a bit. But then his features harden into a serious expression. “Probably a good thing I made him scamper off. In fact, it was him I needed to discuss with you and his presence would not have been a welcome one in our conversation.”

His tone towards Dave makes you defensive immediately. “What does that mean? And why are you talking about him like he’s some unwanted pest or something?”

“Because he _is_ an unwanted pest! At least as far as I’m concerned. John, you need to stay away from him. He’s not good for you, not at all. I know you most likely won’t believe me when I say this, but he has horrible things in store for you!”

Your fingers dig into your bed sheets in frustration. “Again, what the hell does that mean? What on earth are you talking about, Jake? Dave’s been a really good friend of mine for a little while now. There’s no way he’s a bad person and there’s no way he plans on hurting me.”

“How do you know?”

“How do you know!” Is your growled retort. “You come in here spouting nonsense about Dave and expect me to believe it without any basis?”

“I expect you to believe me because we’re family and I have always tried to look out for your wellbeing, John! Just...please. Take my word for it.” Jake is looking at you now with a worn look on his face, his eyes pleading and soft. “I can’t explain to you why, because then you’ll just believe it’s more farfetched bologna. But please, just trust me. Your friend Dave isn’t as good as you believe him to be. I wish it was otherwise, but he will end up hurting you eventually. You need to forget about him.”

You don’t say anything to that. Jake’s plea floats around in the silence of your room. He really does sound concerned for you. But you just can’t bring yourself to believe him.

You and Dave are the best of bros. You’ve only known each other for a short time, and yet the bond you’ve established with him is strong. It’s something you can’t explain and it probably doesn’t make much sense to those outside of your friendship. But you care deeply about Dave and can’t bring yourself to turn your back on him just because Jake tells you to.

Your blue eyes catch Jake’s green ones, and you say as calmly as you possibly can, “I think you should leave.”

Jake’s eyes widen and he takes a hesitant step forward. “John, no, please-”

“Leave, Jake.”

The defeated look that graces your cousin’s face hurts a little, but you won’t listen to Jake falsely accuse Dave. You can’t stand to hear it anymore.

He makes a move to exit your room, but spares you one last look over his shoulder. The plea is still there in his eyes, silent, but not crushed. You try to quell the sudden unease in your stomach by looking away. It’s only when you hear your door shut that you allow yourself to collapse on your bed.

A shaky sigh leaves you. You wish Dave hadn’t left.

* * *

  **== > Be Jake**

The week crawls by slowly, miserably. You’ll admit, you feel so much worse now that John has all but refused to listen to you. It was silly to approach him with no evidence pointing at Dave’s true nature, but you’d hoped. You’d hoped that John would just take your word for it.

You thought the familial bond you and John had would be enough. You were wrong.

Stupid, selfish, corrupt, bloodthirsty monsters! That Dave demon probably had his talons sunk into John’s heart already. You wouldn’t be surprised if John’s reluctance was a product of some kind of glamour or something.

And now that demon all but plans to rip John’s heart out, beating and raw, and he’ll consume it fresh before John’s blood has time to cool.

There has to be something you can do. Something you can find that will give you the edge over these monsters.

That brings you to the current moment. You’re sitting in a local library, occult books scattered about on the table. You’d thought that maybe you could dig some more useful info up, but these books either contain the same information as the ones your grandfather’s does, or they’re obvious gimmick books.

A frustrated noise escapes you, and your fingers fist angrily in your dark hair. If only there was something you could do! You feel so weak against these demons, so small as the fragile little human you are. Maybe if they didn’t know about you, you could try to take at least one of them out, maybe get the surprise attack on them. But you’ve already wasted that opportunity.

You’re not even sure you could bring yourself to kill someone. Even if they are a demon.

Dirk’s face flashes in your mind again, his painfully human expressions and mannerisms. His obvious worry for his younger brother and his want for you to believe him.

You quite literally shake the image from your head and even slap your cheeks a few times for good measure. “Get ahold of yourself, English. You’re turning into a marshmallow.”

“I think you might be a little too dark complected to do that.” You jump at the voice that’s suddenly at your ear, and your body does its best impression of a glacier. “Unless you’re going for the toasted look.”

As much as you wish it was a random stranger who’d stumbled upon your audible grievings, you know exactly who that voice belongs to.

You curse under your breath, your shoulders hunched into a tense position. “Bloody hell, what on earth are you doing here?”

The owner of the voice walks around the table and takes a seat to your right. His lips are adorned with a smirk and his posture seeps of absolute confidence and calmness. “It’s a public library. Last time I checked, everyone was allowed in here.”

Ah, yes. Exactly what you needed at this moment. Dirk finding you in your moment of crisis.

“That’s not what I mean, and you very well know it.” Your face is set into a scowl, your fingers curled into a fist. “I thought I warned you to stay away from me.”

“That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” He asks, and his voice has such a casual lull to it. Like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, you’re all nerves and anticipation. “That I can’t come around you, but you can bust in on my little bro’s time with his boyfriend?”

You sputter a little, voice catching on a million different words. “Boyfrie- What in blazes are you- What- That’s...that’s completely different you imbecile!”

“Sure, sure. It’s all the same until it concerns you, right? That’s totally fair. You seem to have an imbalanced view of humans and demons anyway, so I’m not too surprised.” His fingers drum across the table a few times, and you can’t help but notice that his nails are like porcelain, shimmering and unnaturally beautiful without even a speck of dirt marring them.

“It’s different,” You fight back adamantly. “Because humans aren’t nearly as much of a threat to demons as your kind is to us. We don’t _prey and feed_ on others, for your information.”

“You act like that’s all we do.” There’s definitely a hint of annoyance in Dirk’s voice now. “Like we don’t have hobbies that we like to indulge ourselves in or that we don’t like doing - and I’m using your phrasing here - _human shit_ like you do.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do amongst your free time. The fact of the matter is that it all leads to your kind hurting someone at the end of the day. You could be a movie critic for all I care, but that won’t change the fact that you are, at your very core, a monster.”

The two of you exchange a long, hard look. Dirk is actually frowning, and the expression feels out of place on his face for some reason.

He eventually sighs and tilts his head back against his chair. You refuse to prolong any conversation with him, and thus remain quiet yourself.

When he speaks again, it’s with a dispirited tone. “Man, what do I have to do to get it through your thick head? I swear, I’ve dealt with kids who were less of a pain in the ass than you were.”

“Come again?” You’re entirely aware of what he said. It’s more of a challenge on your part.

Dirk straightens himself out and looks at you, really stares you down. Even through his ridiculous, pointy shades, you can tell that he’s taken on a serious demeanor. “Come on. What can I do to make you trust me a little? Anything. Lay it on me.” As if to cover his tracks, he immediately adds on at the end. “Anything that doesn’t involve me leaving you alone forever and disappearing off the face of the planet.”

You’re apt to just stand up and leave since he won’t let you command him away. However, the opportunity stands out and you think you might have the perfect request.

If you can’t find knowledge of how to rid yourself of Dirk and his pesky brother, then maybe you can go right under him and have him tell you himself.

You try not to smirk, feeling like the diabolical genius you suddenly are.

“Alright then, Dirk…” You purse your lips in thought, pondering your brain for a suitable question. You’ll start off easy. “Where does your kind come from?”

“Easy enough. We’re all from a quaint little place called Derse. And when I say quaint, I mean fucking terrible, because it’s filled to the brim with assholes and ruled over by a sadistic queen who gets a little stab happy with her trident.”

Derse? Derse… Of course! That was the word from your grandfather’s book that left you boggled. You’d been meaning to try and find out what it meant, but you guess that little dilemma was just resolved.

“So Derse is the home of demons. I figure it’s nigh impossible to just nuke it all?” You’re not joking. You’d seriously be okay if the US Government suddenly started funding a project for it. Hell, you’d probably fork over half your grandfather’s fortune towards it.

“Haha. Very funny. I’m currently doubled over in my best impression of a folding chair right now. You’re a natural, Jake. Your cousin should take tips from you.” Dirk’s face is anything but amused right now. It’s pretty devoid of any expression, to be perfectly honest.

“Ahh, I forgot that you and your brother speak the language of sarcasm. It makes it very hard to take anything you say serious.” You feel confident in your burn, but then alarm bells are going off in your head. “Hey, wait a moment! How do you know my name?”

“Doesn’t take much effort to search up an address and name, Jake. I thought that even you’d be capable of doing that. You keep surprising me though, I guess.”

You scoff at his jab, and try your best to ignore it. If anything, you’re more concerned that he might know about your sister now. Your annoyance quickly transitions into distress. “Is that...all that you discovered?”

“Well that, and there’s someone else living with you. Some girl named Jade. Different last name than you, though. A girlfriend maybe? I might be feeling a little worse about our encounter if that’s the case.” Despite his words, he’s smirking again. Oh, that smug bastard.

“N-No...not a girlfriend.” You can’t tell him she’s your sister though. What if he dangles her safety over your head? But oh, what if he thinks she’s unimportant to you? You feel so conflicted right now! The words are out of your mouth before you can think anymore. “She’s my...sister.”

His eyebrows raise a little over his pointy shades. “Why the different last names?”

“Our mother insisted that I take hers.” Oh, bollocks. Your voice is naught but a weak mumble now. You really need to work on masking your insecurities and worries better.

And yes, Dirk does apparently notice this. “You sound worried.” Again, you can’t bring yourself to say anything more on the matter. It seems as if you don’t have to, though. “Oh my shit, are you seriously worried that I might do something to your stupid sister? Holy shit, English, calm the fuck down. Stop painting me as one of the stereotypical baddies in action movies. I don’t. Plan. On doing shit. To your stupid family.”

“Ugh!” You’re suddenly at your limit, and once again, your fingers are fisting into your hair in vexation. “Why do you keep at that? This whole innocence charade! What is all this deception going to earn you in the end? Because quite frankly, it seems like it’s a lot more trouble than it's worth!”

A pause, a few seconds of silence. Then he’s leaning in towards you, his tone steady and earnest. “Maybe because it’s not a trick? Maybe because I just want this one goddamn human to see me and my brother as people too? Maybe because I want you to forget everything you’ve heard and just roll with me on this.” An inch closer, and you’ve pressed yourself back against your chair. “I don’t have any intentions of hurting you.”

“How can I trust you?” It’s all but a whisper on an exhale. You want to slap yourself for not sounding more resolute.

“Just talk to me.” Dirk is retreating back against his own chair, arms coming to fold in front of his chest.

“Just talk to you?” You mirror, and you’re met with a single nod.

“Yeah, let’s just start talking up a storm, man. You and me. Forget the demon shtick, forget everything. Talk to me like I’m any other person.”

You have no idea why you’re even considering attempting what he’s asking of you. But...you think you might indulge him just this one time. For now, you’ll sum it up to you just wanting to hear him finally shut the fuck up about listening to him.

“I still have more questions.” At least you might be able to milk some more answers out of him.

“Alright then, twenty questions it is. Shoot.” He imitates the motion of pointing a gun at you with his fingers.

“Tell me more about your kind. What is it that you do? What is the premise for your existence?” You might have mulled over this question quite a bit in your free time.

He sighs, and links his fingers together across his sternum. “I’m not really sure where we come from. I don’t think anyone knows, to be perfectly honest. Not even Her almighty Imperious Condescension. Heh.” He smirks a little at that. “There’s some rumors that we’re some kind of weird branch off created by some super ancient monster called Lord English or something. How about that coincidence, huh? You only got the misfortune of accidentally having the same name as one of the scariest motherfuckers in existence.”

“I’ve never heard of this Lord English fellow before.” The shared name does pique your interest a little.

“Rightfully so. Pretty sure humans are blissfully unaware of that guy. He’s kind of a scary story for us demons. Shit our guardians used to tell us when they’d put us to bed. The kind of stuff you hear about on the streets of Derse, all hushed and stuff because apparently just saying his name out loud strikes fear into the masses. Kind of crazy.”

“Scary stories for demons? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such an oxymoron before.” You actually spare a smile at Dirk and he returns it, surprisingly. “Okay, but that’s not all I wanted to know. Answer the other half of my question.”

“Oh, right. What do we do? Well, that’s kind of a big question. I don’t think I could answer all of it for you because there’s so many different types of us out there. You got attractive pieces of ass like me and my little bro who thrive off the literal lifeblood of humans. Did you know that’s where the myth of vampires started?” Dirk has all but taken to leaning back in his chair, tipping it on its two back legs precariously.

“I did, actually.”

“Neat. So yeah, there’s that. There’s incubi and succubi and I don’t think they need an explanation. Higher up, you have the demons who harvest and collect souls through deals they make with humans. At the lowest rung of the ladder, you’ve got the violent assholes who just take glee in killing whatever they can get their grubby hands on, humans and demons alike. They usually get locked up in Derse or executed on the spot when they’re caught. Draw too much attention, you know? Not good PR for demons in the human world. That’s the kind of demons you’re thinking of mostly.”

“Tell me, what is the difference between their mindless murdering and your kind’s mindless feeding?” In all honesty, you don’t see much of a difference yourself. The question is half of an attempt to antagonize him and half of you being genuinely curious about his answer.

If he notices the sharp edge in your question, he doesn’t show it. “For starters, we don’t kill those we feed off of. Usually, at least. Only the real sadistic shitheads do that. Secondly, it’s a survival mechanism and not a cheap excuse for fun. Though I guess it can be pretty fun, huh English?” Oh god, he’s actually wagging his eyebrows at you.

Your face turns red from embarrassment. “Oh, knock that off! Continue on or else I’m taking my leave!”

“Fine, fine. Just a joke, man. So anyway, since we’re on the topic of my kind. Our ‘victims’ - and I’m using that word lightly - tend to not remember feeding sessions at all. Call it a type of insurance, if you want. We get to sate our hunger and live, they get to have a good time themselves, and in the morning, they don’t remember any of it. To them, it’s just a wild hangover from a great ass party.”

“Your eyes do that trick, don’t they?” A look of surprise appears on Dirk’s face. “Yes, I know about that too. The whole glamour thing. I must say, it’s very clever of you to wear the shades. Otherwise we most likely wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You coming onto me, Jake English?” Dirk’s voice has dropped into that low, seductive purr you recognize from the night he’d fed on you.

“Ugh, no, no! I merely meant that I wouldn’t even hazard talking to you!” Good lord, what an absolute vain being. “Also, why didn’t you erase my memories of you? Surely you must have foreseen the problems that would arise from it.”

“Yeah, I did. I knew you’d be a pain in my ass if I didn’t, and I’ve gotta say, I haven’t been wrong.” You glare at him. He merely looks complacent. “I didn’t do it, because I knew you would just find out again. Speaking of, how do you do that?”

“Do what?” You have no idea what he means.

“How did you know? About my little bro? Dave’s too careful to slip up when it comes to his identity.”

Dirk must be referring to the fact that you can sense demonic aura. “Well, I’ve always just been able to sort of...tell. Like, I can see your aura? If that’s what it even is.”

Dirk simply stares at you. “You can sense aura?” His head tilts slightly to the side. “You a psychic or something? Last time I checked, normal run-of-the-mill humans couldn’t do that.”

“No, of course I’m not a psychic. I honestly don’t have the slightest inkling myself. My sister can’t do it either, so I’m at a loss. I figured it was just a streak of luck on my part that I developed such an ability.” Really, why are you sharing this info with Dirk again? Oh. Because you’re an idiot and the two of you are still in the middle of ‘twenty questions’.

“That’s actually a little intriguing. You got any other weird abilities?”

“Ugh, no. That’s the only one.” You already feel like you’ve said too much to Dirk. You check your phone and notice that you’ve spent almost half an hour talking to said demon. “Listen, I really need to skedaddle soon. My sister must be wondering where I am.”

“Wait a second.” As reluctant as you are, you pause after you stand up from your seat, green eyes looking down on the shades-wearing demon. “I want to talk to you again soon. Do you have a chumhandle?”

Instincts are telling you to lie and say no. But you remind yourself that there’s no harm in sharing your chumhandle with him. If it means you can avoid talking to him in person, that’s totally fine with you.

You sigh. “Yes. Yes, I do.” You bring out your phone again and go into the notes app. “You give me yours first.”

Instead of saying it aloud, he stands up and snatches your phone out of your hands. You make a few protesting noises, but he ignores them, typing quickly on the small touch keyboard. When he’s done, he not only hands you your phone back, but his as well. “Fair is fair.” Is all Dirk says.

You unlock his phone, and it’s the same make and model as yours, albeit the orange casing on his and the green casing on your own. Finding the same app takes no time at all. You quickly type your chumhandle’s name in, cursing a little when you misclick the wrong key a couple times. You were never great at speed texting.

When you’re done, he takes his phone back, and you try not to react when his cold fingers brush against your own. “Thanks for actually sharing. Didn’t think you would at first.”

“Don’t wait for me to text you.” Your retort is short and simple.

“S’alright. I’m cool with being the conversation starter. At least, until you loosen up a little. Can’t stay away from the Strider charm for too long.” Dirk actually flashes you the faintest of smiles, and you see a small slither of too-white teeth for a moment. You’re reminded of how sharp they are.

“Strider, huh.” At least now you know his last name. “We’ll see about that, Dirk. But I have to take my leave now.” Without waiting for another quip, you turn quickly and abscond the library.

As you’re walking out, you actually take a look at what he typed into your phone.

_timaeusTestified_

_Thanks for listening today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions or criticism? My tumblr: http://destineytots.tumblr.com.


	5. Smoke on the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Dave talk about matters. Jake dreams of terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your wonderful comments and kudos! You all inspire me to work my hardest on this fic. <3

**== > Be Dirk**

“You look like someone took a shit in your cheerios.”

“About the equivalent of that, yeah.” You all but collapse onto the couch where your little pain-in-the-ass brother is currently set up with his laptop. Your arms are spread wide over the back of the couch and you take a moment to lean your head back against the cushions and sigh.

“Some asshole try and illicit sexual favors of you in Derse today, or nah?” Dave doesn’t spare you a look, his shaded eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop. You recognize the audio program he has open as one you introduced to him a few years back. He must be editing a new mix.

The Pesterchum program is also minimized on his active bar, and it’s currently flashing with notifications right now. You’d be willing to bank on John being all of them.

“Condie was a little snappy today.”

Unfortunately for you, you’re one of the select demons tasked with the arduous duty of reporting obstreperous demons to Her Imperious Condescension. It’s your job to keep an eye out for trouble while also filing reports of rebellious demonic activity; whether it be demons wreaking havoc in the human world, or demons plotting fruitlessly against the queen herself.

Of course The Condesce isn’t the most lovable or kind being out there (quite the opposite), but she knows how to keep the peace and you doubt anyone else could keep Derse and the human world so well kept together like she does. So to you, it’s either The Condesce, or widespread terror and chaos. You’ll go with the former.

“Isn’t that everyday, though? Doesn’t sound like anything new.” You see Dave bring up the Pesterchum client, type a lightning fast response, and then quickly minimize it again.

You shake your head, the distant pangs of your headache from earlier still lingering. “Nah. She was particularly antsy about something today. Looked like she could quite literally bite someone’s head off. Should have seen some of the messengers. Thought they were going to wet themselves out of fear.”

“Can’t say I blame them. I think I’ve seen her like, what, only a couple times? Chick gives off this whole black widow vibe. It’s really unsettling, man. Don’t know how you deal with her.”

You spare Dave the fraction of a smirk. “Someone’s gotta do it, little bro. Besides, it lands me some nice brownie points, and by association, you as well. S’really not that bad once you get used to it.”

“Whatever you say, dude. So…” Dave abandons his laptop on the glass-framed coffee table in front of the couch and turns to face you. You know what’s coming next, and only because he’s made it a point to ask you this question almost everyday since your encounter with Jake at the library. “What’s the DL with you and John’s annoying as fuck cousin?”

As if to accentuate your point, you pull out your phone and check your own Pesterchum app. There’s a few lines where you tried to make conversation with Jake, but it’s all curt and to the point with him. You haven’t managed to have a meaningful conversation with him yet.

You sigh wearily. “Same as before. Can’t squeeze much out of him at the moment. He’s been pretty good at finding excuses to end our conversations prematurely.”

Dave frowns for all of a second before composing his face into that familiar, unreadable mask you’ve helped him perfect. Which makes it not all that unreadable to you, since you know the inner workings of your little brother’s mind. You’ve spent centuries raising him yourself, so you know when something isn’t right with him.

Right now, he’s worried and let down. He has been ever since John relayed to him that Jake was trying to split their friendship up. It’s not so much worrying about Jake himself as it is over his influence on John’s opinion.

Dave doesn’t want to leave John and he doesn’t want anyone tearing the kid away from him. You’ve been trying your damndest to sway Jake’s opinion on the matter. Not just about Dave’s involvement with John, but also yourself as well.

“Maybe you just need to step up your game. Obviously you’re not being interesting enough for him.” Dave crosses his arms and directs his eyes to the TV on the wall that isn’t really playing anything worthwhile at the moment.

“Sure, let me just don the old baggy pants and chains combo, maybe slap on some black lipstick. Do my best impression of someone who just discovered what Hot Topic was a month ago. Think he’ll find that interesting?”

Damn, you really don’t mean to sound so irritable, but you’ve honestly been trying. Jake is so unmovable though, so stuck in his ways. You think you might be making progress with him, but then he’s all sharp words and biting stereotypes with you. It’s hard to judge how much he’s actually thinking about things.

“Just...do something.” It comes out as more of a plea on Dave’s part. “Do something, because you don’t want me to get involved with this. But if he keeps this mess up, I might have to step in.”

“You stay away from him.” Your voice is stern and full of authority. You see Dave swallow thickly. The next part comes out softer. “I’ll handle it. Just give me a little more time. I’ll figure something out.”

Dave doesn’t say anything else on the matter. A few seconds of silence pass, and when you’re absolutely sure the conversation is closed, you stand up from the couch and make your way towards the exit.

When Dave asks you where you’re heading, you call back over your shoulder. “Thirsty.”

* * *

  **== > Be Jake**

January is starting to come to a close, and the snow showers that were scattered throughout the month are starting to turn into cold, freezing rain showers. Washington’s dreary weather conditions never relent for long.

It’s empty and quiet in your spacious house. Jade is at some fundraiser event for her school this evening and you’re currently all by your lonesome. It’s evening time and the sky is dark and cluttered with rain clouds, casting a large, yet somehow comforting shadow across the town.

You’re sitting on the window sill in the den, a single lamp turned on and emitting a warm, golden glow to the otherwise dark room. The sound of the rain droplets hitting the window and the occasional boom of thunder reminds you of your grandfather’s island. As long as you close your eyes, it makes you forget that you’re in a crowded town with houses surrounding your own and roads paving every available surface.

You take a deep breath in, hold it for a few seconds, and exhale slowly.

Though the rain is much colder than that of your old island, you enjoy it. You can’t wait until summer, when the rain will be much warmer on your skin and you’ll be able to really remember what it was like.

You sit and watch the rain fall for a while, until it’s nothing but a small drizzle. The lamp posts outside your house eventually begin to light up one after the other, lighting the sidewalk for anyone who may be out this evening.

It’s not long before you find yourself drifting off into a comfortable slumber, your head leant against the glass pane of the window and your knees brought up to your chest. One of your arms dangle by your side while the other lays limply against your stomach.

For a while, it’s just the lulling blanket of black in your sleep, the absence of anything dreamlike, a place where time seems to flow in strange patterns. As you fall in deeper and deeper, colors start to bleed into the darkness. Green, red, brown, violet, orange. Varying shades of these colors. Distantly, if you strain your ears, you can hear something echoing far away, a high pitched noise.

No, more than one noise. A copious amount of sounds, all amalgamating together. Louder and louder. It’s getting closer. The pitch never relents, but the volume grows. And grows and grows and grows. The colors behind your eyelids are becoming brighter too, taking on strange shapes. Landscapes, figures, buildings. The orange and red coalesce into each other and you recognize what it’s supposed to be.

Fire. There’s fire everywhere.

And that noise? It’s screaming.

Everything suddenly snaps into clear, terrifying clarity.

The violet is the color of the sky, the brown is the burnt and bloodstained grass. The figures are bodies - so many bodies everywhere, littering the land, piled on top of each other, oh god. The scent rises up to your nose and you try not to retch at it, all rotten and tangy with blood; both old and rusted and new and leaden with iron.

It feels as though your mind is spinning, your eyes unable to process what they’re seeing. You feel dizzy and disoriented, as if the ground is rotating and moving at odd angles. Your heart beats a strange rhythm, a feeling akin to the uncomfortable twinge of a heart palpitation.

Crowds of people are pushing past you, some lucky enough to escape the carnage at bay while others are nursing wounds that range from mild to horrifically severe. Gashes and stab wounds, blood pouring from them at frightful rates, their faces ashen from blood lost, their movements sluggish and weak. Some don’t make it far, collapsing on the ground either dead or awaiting a death they can’t escape.

Their voices reach you. A stream of pleas, some begging for mercy or for help, some screeching warnings, and a large number simply voicing their shock and terror in what you can only chalk up to incoherent babbling and hysteria.

And then, above the screaming and screeching of the dying people, you hear a sound that steals the air out of your lungs.

A roar emits from the middle of it all, ground shaking and abominable. A large shape rises up from the pile of corpses around it, and through the smoke and fire and blood covering it, you see its eyes. The hulking figure tosses aside a body it’s all but rended into pieces and turns its attention to you. It’s looking directly at you, it’s bony maw opening into a wicked, jagged smile.

You awake with a greedy gasp of air, nearly falling off the window sill in your clamber to find purchase on something. A hand comes up to your chest, resting shakily against your ribcage. You can feel your heart hammering away wildly, threatening to burst out of your chest cavity. A few beads of sweat roll down your temple and you wipe them away with the sleeve of your shirt.

Out of all the nightmares you’ve had in your life, never have you experienced one so vivid and horrible.

Hastily and maybe with an ounce of panic in your movements, you fish out your phone and bring up the Pesterchum app. You really need to distract yourself, find something to calm your nerves. Your hand is shaking so bad that you can barely scroll down your contacts screen.

Jade’s status is currently set to busy and John is offline at the moment, not to mention that your relationship with him was currently strained due to your confrontation about Dave. You have Rose added as a contact, but you’re not sure if you’d appreciate being psychoanalyzed right now. One mention of your dream to her, and she’d probably treat you like a headcase. Besides, you’re not too familiar with her. The two of you never really spoke often.

There was yours and John’s other cousin, Jane, but do you really want to bother Jane with your problems right now? Last time you checked on her, she was up to her neck in culinary school and part time jobs. The fact that she often forgot to check back in with John and you was a testament to that.

That left you with...no. No, you refused to even consider tapping on the bright orange name. You were not about confide in Dirk Strider for comfort.

...Oh shit, who are you kidding? You’re too shaken up to give a flying fuck right now.

Immediately, you’re typing out a sentence with trembling fingers. It takes you a few tries to get everything spelled out right with how much you’re still shaking.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

GT: I find it a little strange that you havent tried bothering me today. 

That sounds innocent enough, right? Of course, your own words have you thinking that maybe Dirk is actually busy himself. You didn’t even take that into consideration and wow, you’re feeling really silly yourself. It was just a nightmare, for pete’s sake, you really need to buck up and-

TT: Amazing. Are you actually talking to me first? I can’t believe my eyes.  
TT: Also, I was a little busy earlier.   
TT: As much as I’d like to, I can’t always make room for the wonder that is Jake English.

Oh, what a sarcastic asshole he can be! You completely forget about feeling silly in lieu of firing back at Dirk’s comments.

GT: Haha very funny. Always a stand up comedian you are. I almost forgot what it was like living my life without your constant interruptions. Almost.  
TT: How unfortunate for you. Also, chill dude. It was a joke.  
TT: I can only presume that you’re messaging me because it’s important.  
TT: So what’s bothering you? 

You quietly mumble about how painfully perceptive Dirk can be. Of course nothing flies under his radar.

GT: Really its nothing. Is it so preposterous that for once i actually want you to distract me?   
TT: So something is bothering you, huh.  
GT: Ugh no! I didnt say that!  
TT: Don’t need to say it in order for me to know. I can tell you’re not alright.  
GT: Well arent you just so well acquainted with me.   
TT: I’d like to be acquainted with you.  
TT: If you catch my drift.  
GT: No. Absolutely not. You did not just make innuendo at me.  
TT: In the words of a distant friend, “wonk ;)”.  
GT: *pulls at hair* Will you please stop with the unwelcome advances!  
TT: Only if you tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart.

He did not just call you sweetheart. And you are most definitely not red in the face.

GT: Fine! But if you call me sweetheart one more time i might actually consider looking you up just so i can give you a piece of my mind in person.  
TT: I actually wouldn’t object too much to that, but okay.  
TT: Lay it on me. 

Okay, so you’re doing this. You’re going to tell Dirk about your silly nightmare that may or may not have left you a shaken and frightened man. Your completely random, out of the blue, probably doesn’t have any actual basis nightmare. To another grown man.

You feel ridiculous.

GT: You know what on the other hand i actually feel so much better now haha!  
TT: That’s complete bullshit, and you and I both know it.  
TT: I can literally see the the anxiety in your typing.  
GT: Oh hush up would you! I said im fine therefore i am fine.  
TT: You know, I can say a lot of things about myself too. Like for example, I’m a world renowned brain surgeon who was born and raised in Somalia, but had to fight my way out of a gang composed of pirate raiders while simultaneously taking college courses and using their booty to fund my medical schooling. But that doesn’t make it true.  
TT: I am literally trying to be a supportive friend.  
TT: You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Jake.  
GT: *stares at you angrily*  
TT: Yeah, I bet. So spill it already.  
GT: *sigh* Fine. It was just a senseless nightmare was all. Its actually not that big of a deal.   
TT: Dude, nightmares can be pretty awful.  
TT: Take it from someone who has seen some shit over the centuries.  
GT: Wait a second how old are you?  
TT: Nevermind that. That’s a question for another time.  
TT: What happened in your nightmare?   
GT: Im not really positive to be perfectly honest.  
TT: Try to relate it to me as best as you can.

Why is he so steadfast about wringing this nightmare out of you? Furthermore, why is he being so responsive and doting?

GT: Ill try my best but im not sure if i can accurately recount everything.  
GT: All i know is that i was dozing for a bit and there wasnt really anything happening.  
GT: And then bam this nightmare out of the blue!   
GT: Normally nightmares are easy to shoulder off but this one was just…  
GT: Awful. In every sense of the word.  
TT: How so?

The memories of your nightmare still manage to make a chill run down your spine.

GT: It was so vivid. Ive never felt so physically apart of a dream before.   
GT: Whatever was going on it was absolutely demolishing everything around me.  
GT: There was fire and people everywhere and the smell of the smoke and decay was so realistic. They were all falling like flies. Everything was so grisly and graphic so much that it felt as though i were a part of that very scene.  
GT: That was horrendous in its own right. Yet…  
TT: Yet…?  
GT: The thing in the middle of it all is what scared me the most.  
GT: My memory is a little fuzzy when i try recalling the specific details about this thing but i remember looking at it and feeling as if all the blood had drained out of me.  
GT: I knew this was the monster causing all the death and destruction and i knew i was supposed to be afraid.  
GT: And I was. Immensely so. 

Call it natural instincts or irrational fear, but it’s true. When you’d laid eyes on that hulking monster in your nightmare, it struck terror in you unlike anything else. Its presence commanded futility and hopelessness.

GT: Thats all of it really. You must think im childish for being so afraid of something thats not even real.  
TT: Not really, no.  
TT: Sounds like it was a pretty goddamn awful dream.  
TT: Reminds me of the stuff Dave would dream about when he was a kid.  
TT: Though I’m probably responsible for most of that. Got too much of a kick out of watching him almost piss himself when I’d tell him about Lord English and stuff.  
GT: Your little demonic version of a scary story?  
TT: Hey, like I said, that shit was scary as a kid. So don’t be hating.  
GT: Hahaha!   
TT: So anyway. Yeah. Sorry about that.  
TT: Do you at least feel better though? Having talked about it?

Aside from recounting the dream? Yes. You actually do feel better. Your hands are no longer shaking and your breathing has been reduced to normal, no longer stuttering and uneven.

GT: Yes i do. Umm thank you for listening Dirk. That was an awfully nice thing you just did.  
TT: Told you I’m a pretty chill guy.  
TT: Does this mean you might actually start talking to me in length?  
TT: Or is this just one of those rare occurrences.  
GT: Im not really sure. On one hand i feel compelled to ignore you as always but on the other i feel like it would be impolite of me to completely discount our current conversation.  
TT: So you do admit to having ignored me before.  
GT: Argh! Stop zeroing in on things!  
GT: But i suppose it wouldnt hurt to indulge you in longer conversations.  
TT: Awww, are you starting to warm up to me, Jake?  
GT: Oh bugger off strider. 

golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  
golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

GT: But thank you for listening. I really do appreciate it. 

golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

As soon as you put away your phone, you hear the front door of your house open noisily. Jade’s voice drifts into the den where you’re still perched on the window sill. “Hey Jake! Concession gave me some leftovers from the fundraiser. Are you hungry?”

Your stomach seems to answer for you, a rumbling growl emitting from it. “You’re speaking my language, dear sister of mine!” You hop off the window sill, nightmare pushed to the back of your mind and food at the forefront, with Dirk somewhere in between.

* * *

  **== > Be Dave**

The pheromones and sweet aroma of what can only be barely sated lust wafting off your brother tells you that he did indeed go out to satisfy his thirst. The tiny droplets of blood on his collar are a little more obvious, however.

Normally he doesn’t take so long, so that’s what has you asking him when he arrives home, “You get lost somewhere?”

“Jake messaged me on my way home. Had to take care of that.” He shakes his bright orange phone at you. That case is so obnoxiously bright. Nevermind the fact that yours is a blaring shade of cherry red.

“Color me fucking surprised. I think that’s like, what, his first time?”

“Told you to give me some time. He’d come around, and he did.” You watch Dirk disappear into the kitchen and return with a glass of what is no doubt some knock-off brand orange soda. You don’t know how he drinks that shit all the time.

Then again, he probably doesn’t understand how you can stomach so much apple juice. “I guess you got me there. Still don’t like that guy though. Still giving me all kinds of bad vibes, like a looming storm cloud on the frontier or something equally as poetic. I dunno.”

“I know. But I think he might be warming up to me a little. It’s only a matter of time.” He takes a drink, and nearly downs half the glass in one go.

“And we got plenty of that, don’t we?”

“Heaps.”

Sitting here, watching your bro down his disgusting soda is reminding you of a particular thirst that you need to take care of yourself. If the slight dryness in your throat and the faint dark circles under your eyes are any indication, you’d say it’s about time to feed.

You save all the work done to your new mixes, no doubt sick nasty fires ready to be unleashed on some poor, unsuspecting dance floor. Your headphones are rolled up carefully and set upon the surface of your high end laptop.

Dirk’s eyes follow you as you move to get up. “Going out?”

You grab your phone and fire off a quick goodnight message to John. “It’s about that time. Been about four or five days now. Figure I’d better get something in me before I start looking like a chronic insomniac over here.”

“Planning on seeing John tomorrow?” Oh fuck him, he’s actually teasing you. Even if there is some truth there and you’re doing this specifically because you don’t want to chance being hungry around John, it’s still not cool.

“Yeah, and that’s none of your business. So fuck off.” You grab a spare jacket off of the rack by the door, something you don’t have to worry about getting bloodstains on. The cold and rain won’t bother you, but you don’t want to look suspicious, standing out in the rain in the middle of the night in nothing but a t-shirt.

“It’s my business as long as I’m helping you out, little bro.” Dirk actually has the audacity to grin at you. You make a point to pretend like you didn’t see it.

“I’m gone. Try not to miss me.”

You leave before he can throw in another quip. You’re out of the apartment in minutes and you wonder idly if maybe you could have beaten the elevator by taking the stairs. The air outside is damp with rain and crisp on your tongue. A far cry from the humid nights spent in Texas, but not necessarily bad.

Feeding is something you’ve long grown accustomed to. But since John had come into your life, it’s just been something that you can’t quite enjoy like you used to be able to. Whereas feeding sessions would usually turn into one night stands, now you can barely stomach the thought of drawing someone into such an intimate act with you.

It feels like a betrayal on your part. Their body isn’t right. Too short. Too tall. Hair is too light. You keep making these comparisons, trying to find what you’re looking for when all you really want is him. You want to sink your teeth in him, you want it to be him in your lap, him with his fingers fisted into your shirt, his eyes closed and mouth open with a breathy whisper of your name.

You want it to be him that you press into the sheets, his lips that slide against yours, his overwhelmingly delicious scent and his lust, his whimpers and moans as you bring him to the brink only to yank him back and repeat the process all over again until he’s nothing but a hot mess in your arms and your name is the only thing he knows.

For once, you want to be able to stay there afterwards, to hold and pet him and nurse the bites that will no doubt be spread along his shoulders and neck. To smooth away the bruises you might leave on his hips and thighs. To take his glasses from him when he finally dozes off so he won’t bend or break them.

But you can’t have any of that. Not now at least. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to have that. There’s nothing for you to look forward to because nothing is definite when you’re a demon. Humans are wildcards, variables in your life. They’re not constant, always changing and at risk.

You’re not even sure if John would even like you anymore once he knew what you were. Maybe that’s why you’re so afraid right now. You can’t stand the thought of losing him.


	6. Tangled and Shamefaced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk drags Jake along for the ride. Thoughts are jumbled and perspectives are realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the longest yet, almost 10k words! There's a lot of important dialogue in this one, guys.

**== > Be Jake**

February officially comes rolling in with strangely clear skies. It’s a miracle, you think, that you’re able to actually see the sky for once in Washington. Of course you’re kidding, you’ve seen it plenty of times before, and this is a joke and blah blah blah.

Honestly, these weekends have been flying by too fast for you. It seems as though time has distorted since this whole fiasco began with you and Dirk. The weeks are painfully slow in the middle, but then the weekend arrives and you’re asking yourself, “Where did the time go?”

With your grandfather’s fortune to your name and no need to get a job at the moment, all you really have is time to do nothing. Except think and ponder. That’s all you ever do in your free time anymore. That, and you’ve been trying to ease the tension between you and John. He’s not the type to hold grudges, so he was quick to fall back into your usual camaraderie, but you know he still isn’t happy about the Dave incident.

Jade is so involved with school and Rose and sometimes she even visits John on her own. Even if she was around the house a lot, it’s not like you could discuss these particular thoughts with her. She’s still in the dark about Dirk.

He’s all you really think about anymore. Just Dirk. What is Dirk planning, what is Dirk getting at, why is Dirk so adamant about bothering you. You don’t have answers for any of these questions and your curiosity runs wild. You like to try and decipher what it’s like being a demon, what kind of thought process they have when it comes to humans.

You find yourself wanting to ask Dirk these questions yourself, but you feel like it would be a primal sin to start another conversation with him. You fight down the urge to message him on Pesterchum as the days pass, but like many of your other entertaining ideas, it wins out.

There’s a few mumbles and groans about how stupid you are as you type out the text. It almost physically pains you to hit send and when you do, you tilt your head back against the seat you’re situated in at the kitchen and stare at the ceiling, as if it’ll give you the answers you need.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

GT: If its fine with you i might chance some more questions if you dont mind.  
GT: After all i think itd only be right if we were on equal playing fields if were going to do this whole civil conversation thing.  
GT: And theres still so much i dont know about your kind.  
GT: ...  
GT: Dirk?

Wow, he isn’t replying to you. You give your phone a solid five minutes to ping with a notification, and when it doesn’t, you actually feel a smidgen of disappointment. It’s even a little strange to you. You thought that Dirk would be almost gleeful at the prospect of you starting another conversation first.

Just as you’re about to give up and retreat to the den to indulge yourself with an action movie marathon, your phone lights up with a chime.

TT: Sorry about that. I’m in a bit of a hurry. Strict time limit tonight.  
GT: What could you possibly be doing that has you in such a rush?  
TT: Got a gig. My shift starts in thirty.  
GT: A gig?  
TT: I have to mix tonight, Jake. Jesus fuck. I can’t answer your questions right now.  
TT: Maybe later.   
TT: Or...  
GT: Oh goodness what are you thinking?  
TT: If you hurry your choice ass over here, you can head out with me.  
GT: And why exactly would i have any intention of doing that? Also choice ass what the hell does that mean dirk!  
TT: Because you want to know more about us, huh? The place I’m heading to is a pretty popular place for my kind. You’ll get to see us in action. Also, it means you have a prime grade ass. An ass worthy of only the most careful squeezes. A booty that just won’t quit.  
GT: Ughh i thought we agreed to stop with the advances! Also why do you think i would willingly surround myself with demons?  
TT: Because that’s the quickest way for you to learn about us. Experience yields a lot more results. And that agreement was strictly about you spilling the beans about your dream, so now I’m no longer bound to that deal.  
TT: But we can make another if you want.  
TT: Come with me to the club tonight and I promise not to make any more comments about your fine, choice ass.  
GT: ...  
GT: Theres no way im getting out of this predicament is there.  
TT: You tell me.  
GT: *groans* Fine fine. You have to direct me to the club though. I havent the slightest idea where any of those establishments are.  
TT: Cool. How about you swing by my place and we’ll go from there.

timaeusTestified [TT] sent you a file!

TT: There’s my place on the map. Screenshotted it and everything for you. Don’t take your sweet time on the way here though. I need to be there soon.   
GT: Wait dirk! I ummm. Is there a dress code of some sort for these type of things or…  
TT: Dude, as long as you’re not decked out in pajamas at the moment, anything is fine. You could show up in a speedo and the bouncer wouldn’t bat an eye.  
TT: Anyway, yeah. Hurry your banging ass over here.  
GT: Dirk!  
TT: Deal doesn't go through until I see you in person, Jake.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT]

You sigh. Tonight is going to be a long night by the looks of it.

* * *

  **Jake == > Fast forward to the club scene!**

So it turns out that Dirk lives about twenty minutes away, tucked into a nice apartment in the sprawling city that lies outside of yours and John’s quaint town. When you’d arrived, he’d all but thrown himself into the vehicle (along with a a big black duffel bag no doubt filled with his supplies) and told you to gun it as fast as you could.

You’d almost rear-ended a few vehicles and came awfully close to cutting corners just a bit too much, but you made it without earning yourself a speeding ticket or killing any innocent bystanders.

The club itself was tucked into a narrow opening near an alley, the only indication of it being a club was the blinding neon sign hanging above the door. But there was already an impressive line forming, club goers decked out in flashy clothing and chatting excitedly as they waited for it to open.

Dirk ushered you past all of them to the front door, where the bouncer took one look at the two of you and nodded his approval. You slipped into the large building with Dirk and your eyes had to adjust to the barely lit room. There were several lights shining on a square area that laid before what you assumed was the DJ booth. A few people were inside already, most of them looking like employees who had helped set up the club for the night. A bartender was already wiping down the counters and stacking shot glasses.

You felt so out of place here.

You were about to voice those feelings when you felt something behind you. Nothing physical, but instead the unique cloudy feel of an aura.

Several auras.

You whip around just in time to be met with a short woman wearing blood red cateye shades. Her lips are adorned with black lipstick and her hair flares out in black tufs around her face. Most importantly she’s smiling at you, but that’s not what has your attention right now.

Her teeth are nothing short of sharp points.

A sharp cry of surprise escapes you and you jump back a little. Dirk’s hand lands on the middle of your back to keep you from retreating any further. You look at him, your eyes a little panicked.

“Nice going, TZ. You already scared the shit out of him.” Dirk reaches his fist out and the short shark-toothed woman bumps it lightly with hers. “You need to stop smiling at people like that.”

“Oh boo-hoo, Strider. It’s not my fault the guy’s so faint hearted. Besides,” She leans toward you, and you press back into Dirk’s hand a little. “I had to get a better whiff of that. I knew I smelled something particularly tasty in here.” She licks her lips and you can’t help but notice that her tongue is a greyish shade of teal.

“H-Hey!” A protest rises to your throat before you can stop it. “I’m not a food cart for you to be examining! I’m an actual person!”

“Indeed you are.” She drawls, and you see her tilt her glasses down a little. You try not to make another embarrassing noise as you spot her eyes. The whites aren’t white at all, instead a deep shade of red, with her irises being a darker tint. “Where’d you get this choice human, Strider? And where’s Dave this time around?”

Dirk’s hand retreats from your back and the strange coolness of it reminds you of the temperature difference between the two of you. “We met a few weeks ago. That’s all you need to know. As for Dave, you might want to drop any future plans you had with him because he’s a little busy with his new boyfriend.”

“Aww, how unfortunate for me. I’m going to miss playing with him. He always knew how to give a girl a good time. Unlike you.” TZ smiles and you feel like there’s a joke you’re missing there. She must notice the confused expression on your face, because she’s leaning towards you again and mock whispering. “Dirk Strider is hella gay.”

“I...okay?” Oh so eloquent. You really hate yourself right now.

“You done scaring the shit out of the human yet, Terezi?” A voice calls from behind the girl - Terezi.

The voice makes you take notice of the two other people behind Terezi. One being a beautiful, tall woman with dark skin like yours. She’s looking at you with bright emerald eyes, a color that makes your own green look dull and lifeless. Her lips are adorned with jade lipstick and her short, dark brown hair is styled into something chic and unique. She’s dressed in a medium length red dress that flares out a little at the end, with black corset heels on. You feel so aesthetically small compared to her.

The other is a short, crabby looking person with wild dark hair. His height makes even John’s short stature look tall. His lips are set into a grimace and you get the suspicion that his face doesn’t morph much from that. But his eyes are what gain your attention. They’re a deep shade of burgundy with prominent shadows underneath them.

The short guy turns his eyes on you, and he must have seen how you were staring. “What? You want me to take a fucking picture? It lasts longer, you know.”

“Ahh, no. Sorry for being so impolite.” You hold your hands up peacefully.

“You’re the one being particularly rude and he is apologizing for it. How peculiar.” The tall woman looks amused, a small smile on her jade lips. She diverts her attention to you and the smile morphs into a welcoming one. “Forgive Karkat’s discourteous behavior. He’s just very spirited. My name is Kanaya.” She holds out a hand and you observe that her fingers are long and delicate looking.

She seems very nice, a trait you find contradictory as you take in the misty green aura seeping off her in contrast to Karkat’s bright candy red and Terezi’s teal color. Of course that’s just your defensive side yelling at you because she’s obviously a demon. However, you’re not one to shun polite acts, so you reach across the space and take her cool hand in yours.

“Jake English, madam. A pleasure to meet you.” You flash her what you hope is a charming smile and her eyes soften momentarily. You decide then and there that she has almost a motherly look to her features.

“Such a gentlemen. A pleasure to meet you, Jake.” Kanaya turns to Dirk, one of her thin eyebrows raised. “How did you land such fine company?”

“The way you guys are talking is like you think I’m a fucking savage or something. Give me some credit.” Dirk readjusts the black duffle strap on his shoulder. “You know I’d like to stay and talk but I have some equipment to set up and only a few minutes to work with. Catch you all later. And,” Dirk points a finger at you. “He’s off limits. That means you specifically, Terezi.”

Terezi pouts at Dirk comically, her black lips puckered slightly. “Aww, and here I was hoping to add another one to my collection.”

Dirk shoots her a criticizing look and then he’s bounding away towards the DJ’s booth. You’re left alone with Terezi, Kanaya, and Karkat.

Well damn, this is awkward.

“Well, if all the awkward as hell introductions are done, I think I’m gonna go drown myself at the bar before all the inevitable dumbasses start crowding it up.” Karkat pushes past you and his height is made painfully obvious. His head barely clears your shoulder.

An autoplay list of music starts droning throughout the club and you can see the bouncer beginning to let people flood in. It brings up a thought, and you can’t help but ask, “I noticed you all were inside before the rest. Do you assist with jobs around the club as well?”

“Having the DJ as one of your good, personal friends has its benefits. IE, we get to come inside instead of waiting in a line that never ends. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’ve never been here before, so get ready. It gets crowded fast.” Terezi looks over at the crowd that is slowly dispersing throughout the club. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go scout for some select people. Try to have fun, Jake. You look a little stiff.” She laughs and her voice is a grating high pitch. Definitely not human.

Terezi leaves your group and then it’s just you and Kanaya. Out of the three you could have been stuck with, you’re glad it’s her. Despite being a demon, you can’t help but feel like Kanaya is someone you’d get along with. Her deferential and proper manners have a lot to do with that.

“It’s starting to get a little congested in this area. Would you like to migrate to a quieter spot?” The crowd of people are starting to become a little overbearing, so she has to raise her delicate voice for you to hear.

Are you really going to follow and possibly speak to this demon you just met for what you can only assume will be an extended period of time? Well, you’re here at the club already and this is what Dirk wanted. Even if the trained clockwork inside your head is telling you no, you decide against it. Might as well participate.

“Sure. Lead the way, miss Kanaya.” Kanaya flashes you a smile and you spot the tips of her fangs poking out a little. Your throat constricts momentarily, and you’re opposed to admit that it was mostly out of allure than fear. You can’t deny that she’s beautiful.

She leads you to an empty booth near the DJ’s tower. Blue and green florescent lights cast a ghostly glow around the area you’re in. Even now you can see various lights flicking on and moving about the club. Everyone is cast in a rainbow of colors.

It’s quiet for a few moments before Kanaya speaks again. “I can see that we’re a bit similar when it comes to the current situation.”

You cease your observations of the club and your eyes meet hers. “Huh?”

“I’ve never really been interested in ‘clubbing’. This isn’t the first time I’ve agreed to spend my time here, but I do it more out of generosity than anything.” She dabs at the corner of her lips and spares a glance at her finger, checking for any lipstick residue that might be there. “I’d honestly rather be at home planning out new projects.”

“Who do you do it for then?”

She glances away, and you follow her line of sight. She’s looking over at the bar. “Karkat, mostly. He doesn’t feel comfortable coming alone with Terezi. They had a bumpy falling out of sorts. And as his friend, I suppose it’s sort of my duty to look after him.”

“Oh.” You wish you could give a better response than that. The thought of demons soliciting relationships with each other never crossed your mind. You always had this idea that they were only ever interested in playing with humans. “Were they...together?”

Kanaya nods once, a delicate dip of her head. “Yes, but it wasn’t fated to be. Terezi is a bit...promiscuous. Karkat isn’t fit to deal with someone like that. In fact,” She nods her head to the side where Dirk is still setting up. “It was his brother that lead to their fallout. Terezi had engaged Dave in a sort of way and when prompted about it by Karkat, Dave had admitted the truth.”

Dave, the same demon that was wrapped around John at the moment. Your brows tilt down in contempt. “Why am I not surprised by that.”

The look Kanaya gives you at that stops you in your tracks. “To clarify, Dave had no idea that Terezi was also in a relationship with Karkat. Furthermore, this was all a while back and Dave hasn’t shown himself around here for a few weeks. If you were wondering why she had asked earlier, that’s why.”

You honestly don’t know what to say to that. You were so fast to accuse Dave, and you actually feel a little guilty now. It’s not as if you feel any better about his involvement with John, but you didn’t even stop to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You reel at your own thoughts. Why are you even doing that now? A few weeks ago, you would have fled this place in a heartbeat with all the demonic presence swirling around you.

Ugh, everything is so confusing and cluttered right now. You don’t know what to make heads or tails out of anymore.

Fortunately for you, you don’t have long to argue with yourself. The sound of the music stopping and a mic being turned on catches your attention. You recognize the voice on it immediately. “This is Dirk Strider-” A chorus of cheers and whistles can be heard from the large crowd in front of the tower. “-and I’ll be your guide tonight.”

The sound of the turntables starting has the crowd roaring with delight. The dance floor in front of the DJ’s tower is now filled to the brim with people cheering and clapping. The music blends and distorts for a moment before taking off at a casual pace. The crowd of club goers starts to writhe along with the beat, and as the pace picks up and the bass becomes louder, harder, the crowd is full on swinging with the rhythm.

You’d been aware of all the people crowding into the club, but the moment Dirk had taken the stage, you’d realized just how many people were squeezed in here. The building was currently a bouncing mass of humanity and demons, and a full five minutes haven’t even passed since Dirk started his gig.

All you can do is turn to Kanaya with a look of bewilderment, completely speechless.

“As you can see, Dirk is very popular with the patrons here. One of the reasons it’s so crowded tonight is because people caught wind that he was scheduled to play. He grosses quite a bit for this business.” Even Kanaya is tapping her fingers along the table, her nails making slight clinking noises.

“I would certainly say.”

Your eyes have moved onto Dirk and you can see him focusing on the equipment in front of him, the neon lights glaring off his pointed shades. A large pair of orange headphones are draped halfway on his ears. Sometime between getting ready to play and now, he’d shrugged off his jacket to reveal the black wifebeater on underneath. He turns his head and looks over in your general direction. You thought he might have just been scanning the club, but then he smirks, cocky and playful, and nods directly at you.

Your breath catches momentarily and you avert your gaze to the table in front of you.

Kanaya’s lilting laugh makes you look up. “You seem a bit flustered. Do you and Dirk have history together?”

You can’t help but look a little flabbergasted. “What? No...no! It’s not like that between us. I barely even know him.”

“Hmm.” Her nimble fingers are steepled together in front of her face and her jade lips purse for a moment. “That is quite fascinating. Forgive me, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re with him then. Is it perhaps that you’re interested in getting to know him?”

The question takes you off guard. You fall silent in contemplation. It’s not as if you have to hold the truth back from Kanaya like you have been doing with all your perfectly human friends. “I’m here because he wanted me to meet his friends. Because he wants me to, err…” Hesitation takes hold of you for a second. “I don’t mean this to sound rude, because you’re a very lovely lady miss Kanaya, but I don’t really like to associate myself with demons.”

A look of understanding dawns on her face. “And he wishes to have you grow accustomed to being in our presence. Am I right with that assumption?”

“That’s not really all of it. He’s trying to sway my opinion on matters.” A puzzled look appears on her face. “I’ve never really held high...opinions of your kind.” You really don’t know how to phrase this delicately, so you decide to just drop the pretenses. “I’ve always been taught that your kind is the absolute worst and that I should never trust or intermingle with demons. I’ve spent basically my entire life fearing and hating the legions of you. But…”

“But you’re not sure how to feel now that you’ve had the chance to actually interact with us.” Kanaya finishes your train of thought for you.

“It’s incredibly jarring, ugh. I want nothing more than to stick to the values my family has taught me, and yet Dirk is like this little twig in the cogwheel. He’s both everything and nothing I thought one of his kind would be.” A noise of discontent escapes you and you lower your head into your hands. “He’s so bloody hellbent on making me think otherwise, and the more I try to ignore what he shows me, the more glaring his efforts become.”

“I see. Well, what do you think of me, Jake?” Kanaya’s tone is curious.

“I’ve already told you that, miss.”

Again, she laughs, her voice gentle and soft. You look up catch sight of her sharp fangs again. “That can mean a lot of things, Jake. I want to know what you think of my character.”

“I feel like you’re a very kind person?” Your voice is uncertain. She motions with her hand to continue on. “And I suppose that I don’t feel all that threatened when I speak to you. It’s easy making conversation and I feel comfortable I suppose?”

“Like I’m any other person, right?” You nod. “That’s just what that means, Jake. My kind - Dirk, Karkat, and even Terezi as dubious as she can be - we’re people as well. I wish you wouldn’t feel like we’re anything less. If I were to be honest, I’d say it’s almost hurtful to be thought of as a feral monster.” Her expression shifts into a dejected one.

Your heart clenches at the crestfallen look on her face. “I’m so sorry miss Kanaya, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She dismisses your apology with a shake of her head. “Don’t trouble yourself over it. Many humans have misconceptions about our kind. You’re not the first to have been pitted against us, and you surely won’t be the last, as awful as that is.”

Your shoulders sag a little and you can’t help but feel a little downcast. “I’ve just heard so many stories from my grandfather about demons. Stories about the atrocities you supposedly commit and the heinous tactics you use to lure humans in. I never pegged my grandfather as one to lie about anything and I can’t bring myself to believe he was lying either.”

“I might be making a blind assumption, or I may be hitting the nail on the head, but perhaps it’s because he too was institutionalized to think the same way you do now? It’s a vicious cycle that’s been repeated for centuries amongst certain human families. Particularly ones who have descended from demon hunters.”

Your eyebrows raise at that. “I’ve never heard of anyone in my family being a demon hunter before. At least, not from my grandfather. I’ve just always assumed that we were simply in the know and nothing more.”

“That’s a topic you would have to peer into yourself. The point of the matter is that times have changed drastically. Both humans and demons have evolved so much over the centuries, both morally and intellectually. I think it’s high time that we learn to coexist with each other, don’t you think?” There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. Kanaya eventually sighs and looks off into the crowd of people who are still lost in the bass of Dirk’s music. “I hope you don’t mind if I cut our discussion short, Jake. I’ve been parched for most of the day and I fear I won’t be able to keep my thirst down much longer without becoming unpleasant.”

It dawns on you what she means. “Wait Kanaya, are you...similar to the kind of demon Dirk is?”

“Yes, we’re of the same kind. I require blood every few days to function properly.” She tilts her head at you slightly, a peculiar look gracing her face. “You look uneasy at that revelation. If it makes you feel any better, I take good care of my donors. Their lives are never in any danger. In fact, most of our kind have taken a vow not to harm our human counterparts.”

“I’m sorry, but it just feels so wrong to me.”

Kanaya stands up from her seat, and her height makes her tower over you. Her body is half turned to the dance floor. “I understand why you feel that way Jake. But you must realize that we only do this because we must. Without blood, we’ll die. And as long as we’re not causing too much dissension in the world, don’t we have a right to life as well?”

You don’t say anything to that. You can’t bring yourself to tell her otherwise.

“It was pleasant meeting you. I hope that the next time we converse, we can do so on a much more lighthearted note.” She waves goodbye to you and bounds off to the dance floor, all grace and flowing limbs.

You’re left alone in the booth by yourself. If your world had been turned upside down before, then you must be completely out of orbit now. There’s nothing but turmoil inside your head, turmoil with your heart.

_Don’t we have a right to life as well?_

Your head is starting to hurt from all your thinking and you really need to stand up all of a sudden. You’re not really sure of where to go, so you go to the only other place that sticks out from the dance floor.

There’s a few empty stools at the bar and you take one. When the bartender comes by to ask what you’ll be having, you politely decline the offer. A few seats down, you see Karkat nursing some kind of drink to himself. His dark eyebrows are angled down in what you can only bet is annoyance. He must feel your eyes on him, because he meets your gaze after a few seconds.

You quickly avert your eyes away, focusing on the bottles of liquor sitting on the shelves behind the counter. When you hear the squeak of one of the stool beside you, you chance a glance to the side.

Lo and behold, it’s Karkat who’s moved over to sit next to you. He’s takes a long sip from his drink, draining a decent portion of it through his straw. Then he’s speaking to you.

“You look like you just saw a goddamn trainwreck.”

A nervous laugh escapes you. Honestly, Karkat kind of intimidates you, what with his harsh vocabulary and fierce resting expression. “Oh, you know...it’s just...nothing.”

He scoffs, and you actually see a portion of his lips rise in amusement. It also allows you to see the set of razor sharp teeth behind them. Like Terezi, he’s hosting a mouth full of deadly points. You wonder idly what kind of demons they are.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds convincing enough. You’re only wide-eyed as fuck and looking like the lost puppy you probably are.” Another sip from his drink. You notice that it’s a bright shade of blue and smells sweet and tangy. “You’re not comfortable here.”

Apparently he’s also really good at reading people. That, or maybe you’re actually an open book just like Jade describes you to be from time to time. “Yeah, no. I’m really not.”

“Care to share or am I trudging too deep into fuck-off territory?” Karkat has yet to look away from his drink. It’s like he’s afraid he’ll scare you away if he meets your eyes again.

You really don’t want to get into this discussion again. “I’m deeply sorry, but I’m not sure I’m up to talking about it, mate.”

He gives you a single stern nod. “Whatever. Probably best not to talk about it.” He taps his nails against the counter, no real rhythm to them. “Though I’m gonna be serious, you look really fucking uncomfortable, especially since I started talking to you.” He swivels around in the stool a little until he’s facing you somewhat. “So you one of those humans who have shit against demons?”

Oh my god, this cannot be happening again. You actually groan aloud and that’s a good enough answer for him.

“Yeah. Mhmm. Yeah. Okay.” He faces forward again and stirs his drinks a little with his straw. Anxiety creeps up on you as you wait for him to speak. “You know, there’s nothing I hate more than judgemental asshats who actually have no fucking idea what they’re talking about. Those kinds of people who take one look at a person and go, ‘’Oh! Well they’re obviously this!’ Because that’s the social stigma or whatever ass-backwards stuff they’ve been force fed while growing up.”

Despite all his harsh biting words, you don’t think he’s trying to berate you. There’s obviously a point to what he’s saying, the same message that Kanaya was trying to convey to you herself. Even you can pick that much up. Karkat just disguises his words with a layer of venom.

Instead of participating though, you’re content to listen. “So I’m gonna give it to you plain and simple, Jake. Drop all the bullshit you’ve heard about us and start making judgements based on what you see, not what you think you know. Maybe actually observe some fucking happenings around here. When you’re a little less high-strung, then maybe, just maybe you and I can become friends or something equally as disgusting and sappy.”

Karkat stands with his drink and slinks away from the bar as quietly as he came over. You don’t want to say that your feelings are a little bruised at his vulgar tone, but his words leave you with a dull ache. You’re pretty sure half of that ache is guilt.

That’s twice you think you’ve hurt a demon’s feelings tonight, and you actually feel pretty terrible about it.

For a moment, you consider ordering a drink, even though you’ve never touched alcohol in your life. Is this what alcoholism feels like? Wanting to drown your emotions and problems in it? Oh good lord, you need to pull yourself together!

As much as you’d like to leave and go sulk under the covers of your bed for a while, you know Dirk would be unhappy to learn that you’ve left without him. You’re really not up for disappointing another person tonight, so you decide to stay put as much as you don’t want to.

An hour passes and the club never relents. The music still drones on, and the bass thrums loudly in its deep timbre. You find yourself spun around in your stool, observing the on-goings of the dance floor. Originally you had been looking to see if you could spot Kanaya, but you figure she’s either moved on or is buried in the middle of everyone.

The longer you watch, the more things you start to notice. The sight of people grinding up on each other is nothing new, but the details of some of the pairs are. The first time you notice the eerie glow of a demon’s eyes as they draw their dance partner into an embrace, a chill runs up your spine.

What had looked like fleeting kisses and lips trailing languidly against each other’s necks became nipping teeth - fangs - tiny droplets of blood and blood-reddened tongues sliding against each other. Then their eyes would meet, and whatever human was held in that demon’s embrace would immediately turn into putty in their hands.

A few times you saw pairs leaving the dance floor, retreating into dark corners your eyes couldn’t reach. But you knew. You knew exactly what was happening in those corners because the same thing had happened to you the first time you met Dirk.

So many people being drawn into feeding sessions, so many humans being glamoured, so many demons flitting about gracefully. Where you look for signs of panic and pain, all you find is willingness and and satisfaction. No teeth clenched in desperation, unless it’s from the familiar euphoria of another bite. No hands trying to push those demons away, only fingers curling into their clothes in an attempt to drawn them in closer.

The more you watch, the more you get filled with a strange sort of heat. It starts in your face and travels down your neck and chest, until it settles in your stomach and has you itching with a certain feeling you just can’t placate.

It’s an embarrassing amount of time until you recognize it as arousal.

You immediately force your eyes away from the dance floor. You hold your head in your hands and stare blankly at the floor as your cheeks burn even hotter out of contrite. A bead of sweat rolls down your temple and you don’t even bother to swipe it away. Why, why, why did you let yourself feel like that. You should have been disgusted, not getting off on the sight of watching demons feed.

What the everloving fuck is wrong with you.

Your existential crisis must have taken a while to play out, because soon the intensity of the music is decreasing and eventually fades out only to be replaced with another autoplay list. The feel of a hand on your arm is what breaks you out of your reverie.

You turn and Dirk is standing there, eyes hidden by his shades and looking a little worked. A small sheen of sweat is covering him, mostly around his collarbones and forehead. His platinum bangs are slightly plastered to his head and you subconsciously decide that he looks like a picturesque DJ at that moment.

Your body also decides that it likes the way he looks, because that heat is back in your stomach and you’re feeling like you want to curl up and die right now.

Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you could force any words out of your mouth at this exact moment. Just standing there and gaping at him like a fish is good enough for you.

“So what did you think about that?” He still has that cocky, confident manner to him and you can’t say you blame him for carrying himself that way. You’d be on an ego trip too if you received the same reaction from the crowd.

You need to find your voice, you decide then and there. You can’t let Dirk know what kind of filth is rolling around in your mind right now. “Oh! It was, err, fantastic! Really Dirk, I had no idea you were so talented with music.”

“Thanks.” He takes to leaning against the counter of the bar next to your seat. You hadn’t even noticed the leather gloves on his hands earlier, but you definitely do now, and it doesn’t help your little problem any. “I didn’t see you out there any though. You afraid of dancing or something?”

You’re not going to admit that yes, you can’t dance to save your life nor have you ever attempted a grind train before. So you decide to give him a half truth. “Ah, no. I spent the majority of my time speaking to Kanaya and then Karkat a little.”

Dirk sighs dramatically. “Sad. I would have killed to see you out there.”

“I hope that’s not innuendo I’m sensing, Dirk. Remember our agreement?”

A sly look forms on his face and you resist the urge to glare at him. “I agreed not to comment on your ass anymore. That doesn’t exclude me wanting to see you in compromising positions.”

No, no, no, no, no. You do not need Dirk speaking like that right now. You pray to your body to not betray you and your dignity as the heat in your stomach starts to spread to your groin.

“Oh shut it! I don’t want to hear about any of your inappropriate fantasies.” You cross your arms in an attempt to look stern.

You hear him chuckle a little beside you. “You know, I wasn’t going to comment on it earlier, but I think you earned yourself this one.” Though you don’t say anything, you’re not exactly sure what he’s alluding to right now. “Not gonna lie Jake, but you kind of reek of lust right now.”

“W-What? No! No I do not!” Your calm facade is completely abandoned in your defense and wow, that outburst didn’t make you look any more believable. Fuck, why didn’t it ever occur to you that demons could smell arousal? It’s a trait that’s portrayed so often in media, whether it be vampires or incubi, and you of all people should have expected it.

Dirk’s smirk grows more coy. “Yeah, yeah you do. And I gotta say, you’re smelling all kinds of delicious right now.”

Fuck, fuuuuuuuck. That goes straight to your dick and it throbs once with desire. Dirk Strider is going to give you a goddamn boner and you’ll never be able to live it down if it happens. This is the exact opposite of what your grandfather would have wanted for you, but despite that thought, your body doesn’t seem to care right now.

As calmly as you can, you close your eyes and try to focus on nothing in particular. At your sides, you fingers curl in a little and your lips purse in concentration. Calm, calm, calm, just get yourself under control. It’ll be a cold day in hell when you surrender yourself to a demon. You tell yourself that, repeat it in your mind over and over again.

It barely helps.

Then you hear Dirk’s voice right next to your ear, and your eyes shoot open to find him leaning towards you, his shoulder pressed against yours. You can see the dim reflection of your own eyes in his shades.

“You okay?” He asks, and his voice has lost its playful edge. He actually sounds legitimately concerned. Despite that, you don’t answer aloud and resort to shaking your head. “You seriously look uncomfortable.” Dirk shifts a little, observes you from a different angle. You wish he’d stop studying you so closely. In fact, you kind of need your space right now if you’re going to successfully tame these sinful feelings and thoughts of yours. “I’m gonna order you a drink.”

That makes you respond. “What?”

He backs off, much to your relief and shrugs. “You’re looking strung as hell and I figured a drink would do you some good.” He hails over the bartender as your try to reject his offer. Eventually you give up and let him do as he pleases and within seconds there’s a glass set in front of you with salt rimming the edges and a lime slice tucked onto the side.

“What on earth did you get me.” The unamused tone of your voice makes the question sound more like a statement.

Dirk pushes his fingers against the glass and inches it closer to you. “Dude, have you never seen a margarita before?”

“Of course not, because I don’t drink!” You eye the glass like it’s some kind of abomination and push it back a little. “I mean, I’ve seen them in movies and stuff, but no!”

“Try it. You might like it.” Dirk pushes the drink in your direction again. The two of you go back and forth like this for a solid minute before your patience finally reaches its limit.

“Ugh! Fine!” You pick up the drink and go to take a sizable swig from it. As you do, you see Dirk raise a finger and his mouth open, but nothing comes out as he watches you drain a more than acceptable amount. When you set the glass down and swallow, you immediately erupt into a coughing fit. You rub at your watering eyes with the palm of your hands, and your nose and throat burns terribly.

Dirk’s voice borders on laughter as he speaks. “I tried to warn you, but you went too fast.”

All you can do is spare him a glare as you come down from your coughing fit. That was a little cringeworthy on your part and now you have this sense of duty to prove to him that you can handle your alcohol...despite having never touched a drop of it in your life.

You snatch up the glass and take another drink, smaller and slower this time. A little bit of the salt cakes off from the rim of the glass and helps deter the kick of the alcohol a bit. Your throat and nose still burns, but it’s bearable this time around.

When you set your glass down, you look at Dirk with a triumphant expression. “See, I can handle this perfectly fine.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Want me to prove you otherwise? Because I can, believe me!”

Dirk snorts a little. “Hey man, if you want to get drunk off your ass, be my guest. I can’t stop you, but I’ll warn you. Don’t guzzle that shit or you’ll wake up feeling like someone steamrolled you tomorrow.”

“Nonsense. My endurance and fortitude are quite legendary, Dirk Strider!” You might be stretching things a little far right now, but you’ll be damned if you present yourself as a pansy in front of Dirk.

Dirk still appears skeptical. “Whatever, man. Just try not to drink yourself into a literal coma. I have to finish my gig and if I come back to you laying in a puddle of your own tears and vomit, well then, I told you so.” Dirk whistles and the bartender looks up from where they’re cleaning a glass. “Put all his stuff on my tab.”

Dirk retreats from the bar back to his tower and as he walks away, you find yourself yelling to him over the music. “I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much!”

* * *

  **== > Be Dirk**

The crowd is understandably sad when you announce that your shift is over. You spend a few minutes packing everything back into your duffel bag; your headphones, CDs, jacket, etc. It’s been about an hour and a half since you left Jake at the bar.

Speaking of that thought, you wonder how he’s doing. You really hope your banter with him was just that; friendly banter and not an incentive for him to drown himself in margaritas. Otherwise you’re going to have one drunk as hell human to deal with tonight, and it’s not even someone you can feed off of.

Well...you could, but you wouldn’t dream of it. The second you cross Jake’s boundaries is the second any hope you have of getting him to understand your kind ceases to exist.

You sling your duffel onto your shoulder and head over to the bar. As you go, you pass the next shift’s DJ and the two of you bump fists in passing. Before you even reach the bar, you spot Jake out of the other patrons there.

And shit, he’s talking to Terezi.

“So what you’re sayin’ is thasht you have like a bank forh souls and stuff?” You come to a stop behind Terezi just as he finishes his slurred sentence. He doesn’t even notice you, but Terezi does right away.

“Yeah, something like that. It’s like a hobby, like collecting...um, stickers or something. Only the stickers are human souls and the souls can be used in various ways on Derse.” Terezi turns to face you and her mouth is spread into that unnerving smile. “Hey there, Strider! Your friend and I were just discussing the finer parts of demon deals and what not.” Her hand comes up to shield her mouth from Jake, though her voice hardly drops a pitch. “Also, he’s like seriously drunk right now. Like damn, he’s a hot mess.”

Indeed, he is one hot mess. Jake’s cheeks are flushed with alcohol and his eyes are glassy and unfocused. His lips are damp and inviting and his body slumps just ever so slightly. He’s a shining example of loose limbs and rubbery thoughts right now.

“Holy shit, Jake. What the fuck.” You walk into his line of sight so he can acknowledge you.

As soon as his eyes train themselves on you, he’s all words and no thinking. “Dirk! I’m so glad you’re here righ’ now because I told you so! I told you I coul’ handle everyting perfectly, just look at me. I’m still standin’ and here and I’m talkin’ and wow your music was so great tonigh’ like bloody ‘ell you are so talented my good man!”

Jake reaches out blindly until he finds your arm. When he manages to grasp it, he just sits there and doesn’t really do much of anything. Just holds it like it’s the most interesting item in the world.

A sigh falls from your lips and you shake your head at him. “Dude, you did the one thing I warned you not to do. Can you even stand?”

“Of coursh I can stand. Watch, just watch ‘tis!” Bad question on your part, because now he’s sliding off his stool and almost collapsing as soon as his feet touch the floor. His legs are basically useless to him, refusing to stand straight and support the other half of his body.

You have to catch him before he slides into a heap on the floor. You snake your arms under his and help him stand upright, but even that doesn’t really pan out. He’s slumped against your chest with his head pressed into the skin of your collarbones and laughing like you just told the funniest fucking joke in the world.

That, and his arms are wrapped loosely around your waist, barely clinging onto the back of your black shirt. “Hoooh my goodnesh Dirk, I feel so funny right now.” Jake erupts into another fit of giggles against you.

You look up to Terezi and find that she’s shaking with her own laughter, hand plastered over her mouth in a shitty attempt to hide it from you. “Can you not?” At that, her hand falls away from her face and she’s full out guffawing at you.

Terezi actually wipes a tear away from her eye. She’s breathless when she speaks. “Woooow. Just...wow. I’m sorry, but this is hilarious. You might want to get that poor guy home soon because I don’t even think he knows where the exit is anymore.”

“I was planning on it.” You shift Jake around in your arms a little so that you have one arm slung around his shoulder and the other pressed against his sternum to keep him balanced. “What were you doing talking to him anyway?”

Terezi’s hands goes to her hips and you imagine that she must be rolling her eyes behind her glasses. “Nothing, nothing I swear. I just wanted to talk to the guy myself, but he was already super drunk when I got here. We just talked about myself and stuff.” Her head tilts a little to one side and she’s looking at Jake now. “But in all seriousness, you should get him home. He’s going to be so sick tomorrow. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.”

You choose to believe Terezi, judging on that last bit of their conversation. You bid her goodbye and half drag Jake to the exit of the club. When you ask Jake where his keys are, he mumbles something about his back pocket and there’s an awkward moment where you’re stuffing your hand into his pocket and fishing his keys out. He laughs drunkenly and tells you to take him out to dinner first.

“Maybe some other time, when you’re not doing your best impression of Roxy.” Is the answer you give him at that and he makes a confused noise, asking who Roxy is. “Nevermind, you don’t want to know.”

It takes at least two minutes to help Jake into the passenger seat, mostly because he’s content with hanging off of you and insisting he can drive. You reaffirm that while a car wreck would leave you mostly unscathed, he probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

Finally you’re in the driver seat and you’re starting on your way back to where you remember his home being. Beside you, you can hear him mumbling something pitifully. “Dirk, I’m so cold, why is it so cold all ‘a sudden.”

You turn the AC knob on the dashboard to max heat, and the warm air blowing out of the vents has him sighing happily. Jake’s head lolls to one side and rests against the window. It only takes him a few seconds to fall into a drunken sleep. You release a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

It takes about thirty minutes to reach Jake’s home, and you’re once again faced with the weighty task of pulling him from the vehicle. He stirs a little and protests at the hands trying to move him. “Jake, goddamnit, you can’t sleep in your car all night. Come on.”

“S’perfectly fine thing to do, mate. No harm, no foul.” Jake’s words slur together in a messy sentence and he barely has it in him to keep his eyes open.

“There’s a killer bed with your name on it a couple feet away. Now come on, we’re not arguing about this.” You wrap your arms around him, one supporting his back and the other his legs, and scoop him out of the seat.

Jake laughs again, a sound made silly by his drunken stupor. “Ohhh, Mr. Strider, what a gentleman you are! I always wanted to be swep’ off my feet.” He even wraps his arms around your neck while you bump the door closed with your hip.

Any other time you’d probably be ecstatic that Jake English of all people was making moves on you, but now is not one of those times. If Jake were to find out about his current behavior, he’d probably blow a gasket. That, or go off into a rant ripe with British slang so obscure and confusing, you’d need a personal translator to help you understand what he was saying.

As best as you can, you ignore Jake’s flirtatious jabs at you. That sounds easy enough...until he’s tangling his fingers into your hair, pulling your head down and pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. Your glasses clank together unpleasantly and his lips taste like the fruity drinks he’d been consuming earlier. You can smell the beginnings of drunken arousal cascading off of him and the taste of it on your tongue makes you ache with desire. It takes you a second to realize what’s happening.

Then you’re yanking away from his lips and scowling a little. Jake looks at you like he’s the most innocent thing in the world, eyes wide with rejection and confusion. The urge to bring him back into another kiss to smooth that crestfallen look off his face is almost overwhelming, but you push it to the back of your mind.

“You really need to sleep.” Your voice is tight, nervous even. You try your best to act like the person in your arms right now isn’t Jake. Jake himself doesn’t really say much of anything, his feelings probably bruised from your rejection. If there’s anything you’ve learned about drunk people and being drunk, it’s that your emotions tend to be multiplied tenfold.

So you carry Jake to his door, thankful to find it unlocked. You recall that his younger sister also shares this house with him, but the lights in the front room are turned off, so you reason that she must already be in bed. It’s pretty late to be fair, a little after midnight.

There’s a set of intricate looking stairs leading up to the second floor and you scale them with little to no effort. It’s moments like this that you’re thankful for your enhanced strength, because Jake is pretty stout and you doubt a human of your stature could do this with ease.

Jake is still awfully quiet in your arms. You spare a glance down and find that he’s dozed off again. It takes a bit of skillful maneuvering to open the doors in the hallway, but you manage. You check for a room that could resemble his, and end up accidentally stumbling across what you can only assume is his sister’s room. Upon closer inspection, you spot her curled up in the green-themed bed, her long, wavy hair strewn about in a wild mess. You decide that you shouldn’t be spying on Jake’s sister and that this is a little creepy, so you leave immediately and continue down the hallway.

Jake’s room is at the end and when you open the door up to his room and spot what’s inside, you can’t help but smile inwardly. Movie posters are plastered to every available surface on the walls, piles and piles of comics are stacked on the desk near his bed, and there’s even a cabinet filled with rifles and other guns situated in the corner. You remember the pistols he’d pointed at you the night you’d two met, but you never figured him for a gun nut. Off to the side of the room are a pair of glass doors leading out onto a balcony overlooking the backyard.

His bed is in the corner, covers still messily tossed aside. Careful not to jostle him too much, you lay him down and he instantly snuggles into the sheets, muttering something unintelligible. You stand there for a while, just watching him, and decide to turn him on his side just in case he gets sick overnight. You also take his glasses, which have gone askew on his face, and set them on the edge of his desk.

Jake probably isn’t going to remember much of tonight, nor is he going to realize how he got home. So you put your strengthened eyes to use and look around for a notepad of some sort. You spot a pile of sticky notes on his desk, with a cup of pens and pencils sitting nearby. Hastily, you write down a brief explanation about what happened and stick it to the screen of his computer.

You deposit Jake’s keys beside his glasses and leave the house through the balcony door connected to his room.


	7. Second Opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake finally has that conversation with Jade. John and Dave evolve a little.

**== > Be Jake...reluctantly**

You’ve never awoken to such a horrible feeling in your body before. The moment your eyes open just the barest slither, a sharp pain explodes in the front of your head. Instinctively, you cringe and squeeze them shut, which only results in more pressure being applied to the afflicted area.  
A pained noise leaves you and you curl in on yourself. Which brings you to your next problem: the awful churning in your stomach and the feeling that whatever is in there is about to be expelled violently.

With speed you didn’t know you possessed, you toss the covers aside hurriedly and half stumble, half run to the bathroom. Along the way, you bump your foot against the door frame and while that would have hurt like hell any other time, there’s more pressing matters at issue right now.

The moment you fall to your knees and your hand leaves your mouth, you’re retching up the contents of your stomach. It’s awful and it burns your throat and eyes. You struggle for breath between heaves, choking because you don’t have the time to breathe and there’s not enough allocated space in your throat to do so right now.

By the time you finish, you’re a breathless pile of humanity on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, face hot and sweaty and a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. You weakly manage to flush the toilet, but that’s basically it. It takes you a long while to even regain the strength to sit up. You find that your head is still pounding away unpleasantly and the bright lights in the bathroom aren’t helping at all.

You pull your knees to your chest and rest your forehead against them. What the hell happened? You consult your memory for clues, and find that last night comes up as a blurry haze. Well, that’s not good. There’s a moment where you begin to panic, but then you realize that you’d woken up in your bed and this is your house. So you made it home safely.

Faintly, you remember agreeing to go somewhere with Dirk. A club. He wanted you to meet his friends. You talked to some of them. Some other strange things happened that you don’t want to think too much about right now. And then...oh lord, you’d started drinking those awful drinks.

Fuck. Fuck. You must have gotten blackout drunk. Your face burns hotter with self-loathing and you knock your head on your knees a couple times. Each knock sends a pang through your head. You figure you deserve that much after your reckless and irresponsible behavior.

Reluctantly, you pick yourself up from the floor and retreat back to your room in search of fresh clothes for a shower. When you pass by your computer, you find a sticky note taped to the screen with messy handwriting scrawled on it. You pick it up and read it.

_So Jake, you got really drunk last night and yeah, I told you so. So I drove you home. Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything. You can check yourself if you don’t believe me. Keys and glasses are on your desk too. Try to drink a lot of coffee tomorrow. And eat some toast or crackers. It helps soak up all that remaining alcohol so you won’t feel as bad. Talk to you later._

The little post-it note is deposited delicately on your desk. Dirk brought you home? You don’t remember any of it. He must have had so much trouble carrying you up the stairs. The thought of being left alone with him with no real agency makes your hairs stand on end. Your hands immediately go to your neck, feeling for anything unusual. There’s nothing there to find.

Carefully, you stretch your limbs, looking for any signs of post-coital soreness. Besides the pounding in your head and how stiff your body feels from sleeping like a rock, everything seems fine. You study your skin in the mirror of the vanity on your dresser and find that it’s free of bruises or lovebites.

So Dirk really had just brought you home. There was no funny business on his part, no trying to take advantage of you. It would have been so easy for him to do it too, but no. He didn’t lay an unwanted finger on you.

The notion helps lift your mood and you smile a little despite how awful you feel.

There’s not a lot of time spent lamenting on that thought. You feel filthy and ill from being sick, so your hygiene is top priority right now. You spend at least thirty minutes in the shower and find that it eases your migraine a smidgen. When you’re out, you brush your teeth and rinse with mouthwash. The absence of the bitter aftertaste in your mouth is a welcome one.

When you go downstairs, you find Jade sitting at the kitchen table on her phone. She looks up when she hears your footsteps and directs a worried look at you. “Jake, where were you last night?”

You’d expected this, so your voice is steady when you answer. “I agreed to spend some time with a friend.” The coffee-pot is your best friend right now and you waste no time getting reacquainted with it. You fill it with water and coffee beans and the sound of it brewing is a heavenly one.

“I tried to call you, but I never got a response. What happened?” Jade’s emerald eyes never leave you, her brows drawn up into an anxious expression.

“Oh.” That’s right. You were in a club with music blaring loudly over everyone and you hadn’t even thought to set your phone to vibrate. You must have worried Jade sick. “I’m dreadfully sorry Jade! The place I was at was incredibly loud and distracting and I honestly had no idea you were trying to get ahold me.”

“Jake…” Her voice is soft and low. Jade is biting her bottom lip. “I’m really worried about you. You’ve been acting strange and doing things you normally don’t do. What’s going on?”

Of course, this was bound to happen. You called this a while back. Nothing ever got past your sister and sooner or later, curiosity and concern were going to prompt her to press you until she found out.

You try to divert her question anyway. “It’s nothing Jade, really.”

“No. No!” Jade stands up, and she’s striding across the kitchen to stand eye-to-eye with you. Your sister is taller than average, her height almost eclipsing yours. When she’s focused and determined, there’s no sidetracking her. “Really Jake, I’m worried! I don’t know what’s been happening, but you’ve been acting really weird and I know you’re hiding something from me. We’re not supposed to do that! If something was ever wrong, we were supposed to tell each other. So please, tell me what’s wrong and maybe I can help you!”

Seeing how fretful Jade appears has your insides twisting up uncomfortably. Which is an impressive feat since you were almost hacking your guts up earlier. The point is that your heart is clenching unpleasantly and your sister is obviously worried sick about your wellbeing.

You said you’d bring Jade into the know when you needed to confide in her. Well, she needs to know that you’re alright, and that’s equally as important. You suppose you can’t hide the truth from her any longer.

A sigh escapes you, and you place your hands on Jade’s shoulders. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you all about it. But for now, give me a few minutes to brew myself a drink and we’ll get to discussing things right away.”

You see her swallow and nod stiffly. Jade takes her seat at the table and waits patiently as you finish brewing some coffee. You pour yourself a generous cup and meet her at the table, taking a seat next to her own.

There’s a long drink, a careful pause, a moment to try and rehearse what you’re going to say. And then you’re spilling it all to her. The situation with John and Dave. What happened with you and Dirk. Why you were trying to keep Dave away from John, how Dirk was so determined to win your approval. The shopping mall, confronting John, the library, your mobile conversations with Dirk, your time at the club and Dirk’s honorable actions last night.

Though, you were careful to leave out the part where Dirk fed off of you. Jade’s wrath is not something one would want to provoke, even if you are a demon. Her ability with a rifle is something to marvel at.

When you finish, Jade has a pensive look on her face. “I see… Jake, why did you hold all of this from me?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you!” You sigh and deflate a little. “But I guess I did a foolhardy job at that, huh? I’m really sorry, Jade. I only lied to you so you wouldn’t get tangled up in my affairs.”

“I’m your sister, you doofus! Anything that’s bothering you is automatically my business too! Don’t you remember any of the stuff grandpa used to tell us all the time? We’re supposed to look after each other.”

The mention of your grandfather has your thoughts twisting and unfurling again. “I haven’t forgotten. But there’s been so much going on lately that even grandpop’s advice is starting to look a little murky. For starters, I’ve got an overly determined demon trying to prove his humanity’s worth to me, demon acquaintances treating me like I’m a radical right wing republican and they’re the LGBT masses, and to top it off, I’m totally unsure of what to believe anymore.”

“This is why you should have told me, Jake! I could have helped you or maybe given you some advice along the way. It sounds like you’ve been dealing with a lot of inner turmoil.” Jade lays her hand on your wrist and you meet her sympathetic expression with a weak smile.

“You probably would have told me that same thing I’ve been trying to convince myself since this whole mess started: that I’m an idiot for having involved myself with demons.”

When Jade shakes her head, all you can do is stare at her with confused eyes. “Not really, no.” When your expression doesn’t shift, she attempts to clarify. “I know we’ve been taught to be afraid of demons our whole lives, but to be honest Jake, this guy doesn’t sound so bad. At least, the way you’re describing him makes it sound that way. From what I’ve heard from John in school, even Dave sounds like he’s pretty cool.”

You’ll be damned. You’d all but expected Jade to be fervent about cutting ties with Dirk and reinforcing the idea that John is in danger, but she’s actually accepting of the whole situation? What universe are you in and who knocked you into this place?

“Did you really just say that you think Dirk and his brother sound okay?” Your tone is purely one of dubiety, not accusation.

Jade nods. “It sounds like Dirk really just wants to show you that he’s a decent person. That, and John seems really happy about his friendship with Dave. When you put that together with what grandpa used to tell us all the time, it doesn’t really make a lot of sense, you know? If they were like the demons we were taught about, don’t you think they would have acted out a long time ago?”

“Well yes, I suppose so, but-”

“So maybe they’re not like the demons we know about?”

“I’m going to be honest, Jade, but I didn’t expect you to be so unprejudiced against them. I say that with no intentions to offend.” Judging by the calm expression on her face, you guess that no offense was taken.

Jade pulls back her hand from your wrist and takes to rotating her phone in her hands idly. “I understand. It’s just...I know that our grandpa was just trying to protect us, but I’ve actually thought about this a lot. Maybe everything isn’t as black and white as we like to believe things are.”

“What made you start questioning?”

At that, an apologetic smile appears on Jade’s face. “I guess it’s my turn to spill a secret to you? It was actually Rose. She’s kind of like us. She knows that they exist too.”

That manages to take you off guard. “She does? How?”

Jade laughs, albeit a bit nervously. “Rose is supposed to be a psychic of some sort. She can sense demons, kind of like you actually, but with more abilities. At first I didn’t believe her, but then she did something weird to prove it. She basically predicted my entire week, and after that I don’t think there was any questioning it.”

That information takes you off guard. So Rose is a psychic? Furthermore, psychics are an actual thing? It’s nothing groundbreaking, but it’s still a bit of a shocker. If it’s coming from Jade, then you have no choice but to believe her.

The mention of demons and psychics does manage to rehash a recent memory, however. _‘You can sense aura? You a psychic or something? Last time I checked, normal run-of-the-mill humans couldn’t do that.’_ Dirk’s voice rings clearly in your memory.

“Amazing.” You find yourself muttering. “However, I can’t help but question why Rose has a hand in all of this.”

“There was one weekend where all we did was sit and talk about it. Demons, I mean. I told her what our grandpa had taught us, that I thought all demons were naturally bad. But she didn’t agree.” Jade takes a moment to tuck a thick tendril of hair behind her ear. “She went on this whole tangent, trying to explain to me why demons had a place in this world. Why a lot of them weren’t as evil as we like to believe them to be. That some of the things they did that seemed underhanded or morally dubious was necessary to their survival.”

Again, another memory is rehashed at Jade’s words. Your conversation with Kanaya is replayed in your mind, though it’s made a little fuzzy from your hangover. You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with Kanaya’s reasoning and you can see why Jade had that same problem with Rose.

Jade continues on, her voice a soft timbre. “When I tried to argue, she brought up the fact that humans do things potentially far worse. That we’re just as susceptible to being as bad as demons. Only we like to pretend that we’re a lot better than we are. As much as I wanted to say otherwise, I really couldn’t. I knew what she was saying was true to some extent.”

Who would have thought that your sister was going through the same moral crisis as you? The irony of the situation is not lost on you.

“It still feels so wrong, like I’m betraying everything grandpa has taught us. But I think I’m willing to give her point of view a chance. I guess I realized that it’s really unfair to judge someone before they even have the chance to show their character. So I’m asking you to do the same. Give Dirk an actual chance and take his efforts seriously. Let John be friends with Dave. If they stick with the good behavior, then maybe Rose is right.”

Well...shit. Apparently Jade is preaching the same thing Dirk’s own friends are. If you were on the fence now, then where does this place you now? Your sister of all people is encouraging you to open yourself up to demons. How do you tell her no?

Simply put: you don’t. “I can’t help but feel like this is a wild experiment of sorts on your part. Like I’m the bait and you’re the bonkers scientist with the clip-board writing down all of the results.” You smile humorously at her.

She returns it wholeheartedly. “I guess you could look at it like that. Go out there and tell me all about the demons, Jake!”

The two of you share a laugh together. As you trail off into a sigh, your demeanor becomes more serious. “So you believe I should try to be friends with Dirk? Wholeheartedly?”

Jade nods. “I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt. If he does turn out to be a piece of shit, then he’ll have to answer to me personally!” Jade points both of her fingers at you and winks. That wrings another laugh out of you. You can’t believe she still emulates your silly mannerisms.

“If you say so, oh cheeky sister of mine. Grandpop would roll over in his grave if he heard you speaking like that.”

“And I would tell him exactly who I picked it up from.”

* * *

**== > Be John**

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: dave.  
EB: hey dave.  
EB: daaaaaaaave. :B  
TG: what is it what fuck im here  
EB: oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk. what’s up?  
TG: everything but morale egbert the rations are low the death count is high and the germans are at the front door knocking with their panzerschrecks  
EB: oh, what’s wrong?  
TG: that was a joke man chill  
TG: im doing as great as someone like me can be but what about you  
EB: ehhhh, i’m fine for the most part, i guess. really i’ve just been thinking about something lately.  
TG: amazing he can actually use cognitive abilities  
EB: :(  
TG: that was sarcasm egderp ands its a wonderful thing that actually exists and you should start appreciating it more  
TG: so anyway whats bothering you  
EB: well see, that’s kind of the thing. it’s about me...and you. 

Your name is John Egbert, and you’ve been thinking about the almost-kiss that happened between you and Dave for a while now. It’s been a over a week since that incident, and the memory of that moment has stuck to the forefront of your mind like krazy-glue on fingers.

At first, you tried ignoring the elephant in the room, but then you’d finally broken down and admitted that the best of bros usually don’t try to kiss each other unless something else is going on with that picture. That revelation didn’t come without a heap of other realizations either, such as you might be full on homo for Dave Strider and you’ve never felt affections toward the same gender before.

You managed to keep these thoughts and feelings bottled up for a while, but like any other shook up soda can, the pressure was reaching critical levels and you really needed to confront Dave about this stuff.

TG: dude last time i checked the two of us are tighter than a gooses asshole  
TG: you know you can tell me anything  
TG: you could be like “hey dave i killed a man” and id be like “awesome need some help hiding the body”  
EB: i know that, but it’s just urrrrrghhhh. it’s kind of embarrassing to talk about and even then i’m kind of worried about your reaction.  
TG: john do you know who you’re talking to  
TG: im the chillest motherfucker around these parts like i legit put glaciers to shame with how fucking chill i am  
EB: if you say so.  
EB: do you remember the day my cousin came over? by the way, i’m still really sorry about that. he’s usually a lot nicer, really. :B  
TG: yeah i remember and dont worry about it really this is like the 15th time youve apologized its not your fault man  
EB: well, do you remember what almost happened that day? like, when we were talking and then stuff happened and then, uhhh…

The bar showing that Dave is typing doesn’t pop up for a long time after you trail off. You’re instantly worried that he’s caught on and has all but abandoned ship, much like what little confidence you have in yourself at the moment. You stare at his chumnhandle, expecting it to switch to the grey offline color. Then you see the typing notification pop up and you hold your breath.

TG: sure dude i remember we were getting all classic teenage romance on each other

Oh god, you can’t tell if that’s just Dave being his usual self or if he’s admitting that there was definitely some romantic connotation to that moment. Everything you had planned out to say is starting to blend together in a parody of drunken keysmashing. Red lights are going off in your mind, with a bright neon sign yelling at you to get the fuck out of dodge so you can salvage your friendship with Dave before you inevitably ruin it.

EB: yeah, that sure was something! haha, i just wanted to say that you’re totally right and i really shouldn’t be thinking too hard about our friendship because seriously, you are one of the bestest friends i’ve ever had and yep, haha, wouldn’t change it for anything in the world!  
TG: ...  
TG: dude are you okay  
TG: youre doing that thing where you do an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle and the handle happens to be your train of thought  
EB: really, i’m fine dave! really!

No, you’re totally not fine. You’re bent over the back half of your desk chair in a position lethal to your spinal column. But you don’t care about that right now because you just chickened out of confronting your maybe-homo feelings towards your best friend and the taste of defeat is a bitter one.

This is stupid, you should have never tried doing this over a chat client of all things. Problems of this nature require you to be face to face with the object of your affections in a dramatic display of courage. In fact, if you couldn’t accomplish this over Pesterchum, then maybe…

EB: actually, i was wondering if maybe i could come visit you dave. like, we could hang or something at your place for once!  
TG: uhhhhh  
TG: are you sure you really want to do that

Of course, you completely forgot that Dave is, for some unfathomable reason, skittish when it comes to personal details. The topic of his residence has never really been delved into before, but considering that he walks to your house for visits and you both met at a fairly local store, he must not live too far away. Visiting him should be no problem.

EB: sure! i figure it’s about high time to see where the mighty dave strider lives. ooh, maybe i’ll be able to meet your brother?  
TG: you dont want to meet him trust me  
TG: guys an ass  
TG: i can come visit you really its no problem  
EB: but daaaaaaaave, i want to come see you for once! i feel like it’s so unfair that you’re always coming to visit me. fair is fair, right?

Again, Dave’s side of the conversation goes silent for a bit. You sit there, chewing your bottom lip and staring at your computer screen in anticipation. The time it takes for him to reply is substantially shorter this time.

TG: do you really want to come see me that bad  
EB: yes! :)  
TG: fuck  
TG: alright fine whatever heres my address go crazy

turntechGodhead [TG] is sending you a file!

You click on the image Dave sent you and it brings up a map of...the city residing a good thirty minutes away. He’s tucked right into the middle of it and suddenly a very important question is popping up in your head. Dave walks this distance to your house? MULTIPLE times on weekends? There’s absolutely no way!

EB: uhhh, dave? were you being serious when you said you liked to walk to my house?  
TG: listen dude well talk about that later  
TG: are you going to be able to come visit or what  
EB: i’m going to be honest. i was kind of planning on maybe walking since dad is at work, but i dont think i can walk this  
EB: orrrr maybe i could get a ride.  
TG: whos gonna do that  
EB: maybe...my cousin?  
TG: dont want to be the party pooper or anything here but do you think hed give you a ride to come see me because last time i checked he was treating me like i was a biohazard or some shit  
EB: i’m sure i can convince him. maybe i can tell him i’m going to see someone else. whatever happens, i’ll message you soon and let you know what’s going to happen.  
TG: you know me ill be here

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

Time is of the essence and you’re not about to spend half an hour mulling over what to say to Jake. So you hurry downstairs and grab the phone off of the receiver. Jake’s number is familiar to you, something you memorized a long time ago. Sometimes it was nice to be able to hear each other’s voices instead of looking at text over Pesterchum.

Thankfully the two of you have managed to smooth over the bumpy confrontation you’d had a couple weeks ago. Otherwise you probably wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to ask this favor of him.

The phone rings only three time before Jake picks up. “Well hello there, John! How are you doing?”

Jake sounds chipper as always. It’s hard to tell when he’s in a good or bad mood. Even on his worst days, he somehow is able to stay somewhat positive. “You know, the usual. How about you? Is Jade actually home this weekend?”

“I’m all aces. And yes, surprisingly! My dear sister is actually home for once.” You hear what sounds like Jade slapping Jake, presumably on the arm. “Ow!”

You laugh at that. Jade and Jake’s relationship reminds you of the one you used to have with your older cousin, Jane. Ever since she left for college, however, contact with her has been somewhat sparse.

“Tell Jade I said hi!” Jake makes an audio show of begrudgingly relaying your message to his sister. “So Jake, can I ask you to do a favor for me?”

“Certainly. You know if it’s within my power, I don’t mind doing it for you, John.” Oh thank god your cousin is so generous.

“Awesome! Well, uhh...I kind of want to go see a friend right now, but dad is working this weekend and I don’t have a ride. I was planning on walking, but it’s farther away than I thought.” Please don’t let Jake ask who it is, please don’t let him do that.

Jake does exactly that. “I don’t mind in the least. But if you don’t mind me asking, who are you planning on seeing?”

Oh god, what do you do? Lie? Oh sure, that’ll sound convincing. Just let me keep my friend’s identity a secret from you. Oh, who are you kidding? Jake’s going to know exactly who you’re talking about if you lie. Might as well just come out and say it. Maybe you can hitchhike or something.

“I want to go see Dave.”

“Oh.” Jake falls silent on the other end. You can hear something running in the background, maybe a dishwasher or something. You’re not about to go on a pleading tangent or anything. If Jake denies you this, well, then you can’t really do anything about that. “Ah, sure. I can do that.”

Seriously? “Wow. Um, thanks Jake. Really. I just...thought you didn’t like Dave or something?”

Jake sighs. “I’m not too keen on him, no. But it’s not really my place to decide who you should be seeing.” When he phrases it like that, it kind of sounds like you and Dave are an item and ughhh, no let’s not go down this road again. Later, you’ll confront that mess later. “Maybe I was a little too harsh in regards to him.”

You don’t know where this sudden acceptance has come from, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “That’s fine, Dave is a real trooper. Is right now an okay time to leave, or are you busy with something?”

“Right now is more than fine, if you’re apt to it. Should I be on my way?” Again, you can’t even begin to articulate how nice it is having a cousin like Jake. If there was an award for “best cousin of the century”, he’d definitely be in the top nominees.

“Yep! Again, thanks so much for this. I was afraid I’d have to skip out on him. See you soon!” The two of you say your goodbyes and hang up. You bring out your phone and type a quick message to Dave, letting him know that everything is green-lit and you’re on your way. He replies with a single ten-four.

Jake is waiting outside your house five minutes later, his recent model Chevrolet tracker a more than welcome sight. You hop into the passenger seat and bring up the file Dave sent you on your phone. He takes one glance at it, not even three seconds, and nods an affirmative. You pull your phone back, amazed at how fast he studied the map.

The ride there is consisted of the usual banter and goofing around that comes naturally to you and Jake. You’ve always found it easy to get along with your cousin, mostly due to your shared interests and sense of humor. He fancies movies as much as you do, can appreciate your prankster’s gambit, and always has something equally as interesting to fire back at you.

When you enter the inner city’s confines and find yourself getting closer to Dave’s home, you can’t help but ask. “Jake? Why did you think Dave was dangerous to me?”

You’re not sure, but you think you see Jake’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. Tendons stick out in his hand, pale against his dark skin. The corner of his mouth pulls down slightly into a barely noticeable grimace. Nonetheless, he graces you with an answer. “I...knew about him before we officially met. For some unfathomable reason, I’ve always picked up a dodgy vibe from him and it’s never sat well with me. He presented himself as someone who might take advantage of you.” Jake glances over at you and spares you a sympathetic smile. “I must have seemed like I was off my trolly. You’ll have to look over that. Even I can recognize how much of a cock up that was now.”

You shake your head, offering Jake a comforting smile of your own. “No, it’s alright. I guess I was a little harsh on my end too. But that was then, and this is now, and bluh bluh bluh. I say let’s put it behind us.”

Jake’s eyes are back on the road. “Sounds like a cracking idea to me! Now, we should almost be there. Just around this corner.”

The vehicle comes to a stop and you’re parked out in front of a huge, towering apartment complex. Seriously, there must be at least 40 floors to this place. Idly, you wonder which floor Dave lives on. Oh, you hope he lives near the top! That would just be too awesome.

You turn to Jake as you open the car door. “I guess I’m off then. Thanks again! Hehe, I know I’ve been saying that a lot, but you know.”

“Not a problem, John! Will you need a ride home later?” Jake is peering at you through the window now, having rolled it down as you got out. The air is crisp with the February chill, so you don’t want to keep him waiting too long.

“Nah, my dad should be home early this evening. They don’t like to overload him with a ton of hours on the weekend. See you later!” As you turn to walk away, you end up bumping straight into someone standing behind you. Your head knocks into their chest, a testament to how painfully short you are, and you have to crane your head up to see who it is.

The pointy anime shades and platinum blonde hair instantly remind you of Dave. But this guy isn’t Dave, because Dave is not this tall, nor is he as built as him. Whereas Dave’s hair lies flat against his head in layered tufts, this guy’s hair is styled to flip out a little.

Then it hits you. This guy must be Dave’s older bro. There’s no way this is anyone else. “Uh...hi?” Your voice is a low squeak, much to your chagrin.

“Sup.” Yep, definitely Dave’s bro. “John, right?”

You nod mechanically. “Yeah, that’s me. Ahaha, John Egbert. Is, uh...is Dave up there?”

Dave’s bro spares a look up into the sky. Upon further study, you notice that he’s looking at the apartments. “Should be. Do you see him hanging out of the window?”

Your eyes follow his and no, you don’t see anything. You hear an amused noise leave him and realize that he must be playing with you. Your cheeks turn red. “I think I should head up now.”

“Probably. Little bro might have a conniption if you keep him waiting any longer.” Dave’s bro walks right past you and stops in front of the window that is, for some reason, still rolled down. You see him wave two of his fingers at Jake. “Hey there, English. Fancy seeing you again so soon. How you feeling after last night?”

“Like I was steamrolled by a train.” You see Jake bring up a hand to rub at his temple. “Remind me to never accompany you to clubs ever again.”

“Oh come on, you know that was fun. Minus the margaritas and hangover. Next time I’ll get you some daiquiris. How about that?” You hear Dave’s bro laugh a little, and his voice is a deeper octave than Dave’s own.

“Absolutely not. I’ve sworn off alcohol for the rest of my life!”

Despite having been on your way inside the apartments, you can’t help but stay and listen. How on earth does Jake know Dave’s older brother? This just makes the whole Jake-Dave situation even murkier than it was before. If Jake was apparently cool enough with Dave’s bro to spend time with him, then why was he so opposed to Dave?

“Jake?” You call out, and Dave’s bro moves aside a little so Jake can see you through the window. “Do you guys know each other?”

Before Jake can even answer, Dave’s bro is doing it for him. “Oh yeah, we know each other. Pretty well at that. One might even say...intimately.”

“What!” Jake sputters from behind him, and Dave’s bro smiles even wider. “Me and Jake have a lot of history together. Don’t let him lie to you. He’s just a little shy about our relationship. Just gotta give him a little bit of time to adjust.”

Jake bangs his hand against the steering wheel angrily, which causes the tracker’s horn to go off. “No! No, that’s not true at all!” Your cousin turns to you, a poorly devised visage of calm. “John, we’re just acquaintances, really. I haven’t the slightest clue what he’s talking about.”

Dave’s bro thinks otherwise. “Shhhh, like I said. Just shy. He’s totally my boyfriend.”

“Ugh!” Jake throws himself against the back of his seat. “I’m not going to subject myself to this any longer! Goodbye John and goodbye Dirk, you complete and utter asshat!”

Jake rolls the window back up, puts the tracker into gear, and is rolling away at speeds twice the speed limit around here. Dave’s bro - Dirk must be his name - turns to you and shrugs. “Don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s usually a lot more accepting of PDA.”

“Ahhh.” You’re not sure who to believe. Jake, most likely, since you doubt he’d really lie about something like that. But Dirk plays a believable role. “Well, I’m just gonna...go on up now. Are you coming?”

“Nah, I got some things I gotta take care of. Now you and Dave behave yourself. There’s condoms and lube in the bedroom dresser, and you know the saying about safe se-”

“I-I’m leaving now!” You press your hands to your ears and make a beeline to the apartment while Dirk’s laughter can be heard from behind you. The heat filled building is a welcome relief from the biting cold. When you approach the elevators, you realize that Dave didn’t even give you an apartment number. You bring out your phone and text him, letting him know that you’re here and you have no idea which floor he lives on.

He supplies you with a floor and apartment number: apartment 403. So he does live on the top level! The first thing you’re going to do when you walk in is plaster yourself to the window and look out upon the city. Or so you would like. You’re probably not going to do that at all.

The elevator ride is quick and makes your heart feel as though it’s dropped into your stomach. Elevators were always kind of iffy to you. When you find yourself standing outside of Dave’s apartment, excitement and anticipation take hold of you like never before. This is it. You finally get to see Dave’s place. Dave’s den of ironic bobbles. Dave in his natural habitat. Dave as- okay, you really just need to knock on the door now.

You rap your knuckles on the heavy wood a few times. Before you can even pull your hand down to your side, Dave has all but yanked the door open. He’s standing there, dressed in dark skinny jeans and a red graphic tee, face composed into an unreadable expression as always.

And then you’re lunging forward and pulling him into an enthusiastic hug. Your arms snake under his own so you’re not holding him down. Instead, you’re wrapped around him like a rubber band with your head resting against his shoulder. Dave smells like generic body spray and laundry detergent and you find that combination pleasant to your senses. Though his body is cold, almost like a popsicle against your own, it’s a welcome feeling.

“Uh...John?” He finally speaks and you actually hear uncertainty in his voice.

The realization of what you just did finally catches up with you and you flush embarrassedly. “Oh. Sorry. I just, uhh?”

Dave doesn’t let you pull away though, but instead wraps his arms around you, reciprocating the gesture. “Some warning would have been rad, but hey, this is fine. Bro hug?” One of his arms is wound around your chest while the other is draped around your shoulders.The tips of his fingers rest cooly against the nape of your neck.

“Yeah.” You exhale against him. The two of you share a hug for what feels like a long time, but is actually only a few seconds. Then you’re parting and Dave is inviting you in.

You oblige and he shuts the door behind you. The apartment is nice and cool, not the stuffy heat you felt downstairs. Immediately you observe that it’s actually a really nice, high end apartment. The living room, which is the first thing you notice, is located on a level lower than the one you’re standing on now. The entertainment center is stuffed to the brim with various types of media; game consoles, dvd’s, stereo systems, speakers, etc. The television is incredibly large and sleek.

The rest of what you can see is fairly the same. Items clutter the apartment, ranging from mixing equipment to various weapon displays, most of which are swords. Namely katanas. When Dave had talked about sparring with his older bro, you thought that maybe they used wooden training swords, but you can’t spot any non-lethal weapons anywhere. Surely they didn’t use actual blades?

The sound of Dave’s voice behind you interrupts your wandering eyes. You turn and find him talking on his phone. “Yeah. Yeah, the usual. Meatlovers with mushrooms. Alright, thanks.” He ends the call and meets your questioning look. “Ordered us some food, Egbert. Should be about thirty minutes. What kind of host do you think I am?”

“I didn’t say anything.” You respond, amusement tinging your voice. “So Dave, your place is kinda nice. Like, really nice.”

Dave shrugs and slips his hands into his pockets. He walks towards the living room and you follow him to the sofa. “Bro is really frugal with money and stuff. He’s literally been saving up for years. Won’t even let me within ten feet of his bank account. Probably for good reason, if I’m being honest.”

The two of you plop down on the couch and Dave turns the TV on to some random channel. Some comedy commentary show drones on in the background as you talk. “He’s done really well for himself, then. Speaking of, hey Dave? Were you aware that your bro and my cousin know each other?”

At first, Dave appears hesitant to answer. But then he’s splaying his arms out against the back of the couch and nodding. “Yeah. I knew.”

“Is that why the stuff with you and Jake happened?” You turn on the couch, one leg propped up underneath you and the other bent in front of you.

“Kind of, yeah.” Dave’s head lolls back so it’s resting against the cushions. “I knew your cousin wouldn’t like me. Partly because of all the shenanigans he has with my bro. You know, the whole sins of the father thing, except it’s the sins of the brother or something along those lines. That’s why when he showed up out of the blue like that, I was hellbent on getting the fuck outta dodge before any drama went down.”

That...explains a lot. Though you wonder why Jake and Dirk seem so chummy now. Either way, you’re glad that the situation has somewhat resolved itself. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? You didn’t have to pretend like you didn’t know who Jake was. I would have understood.”

“I just didn’t want to upset the the delicate balance of our broship. Conflicting relationships are like two ton weights just waiting to make things top heavy. Can’t afford that noise, not with you Egbert.” You figure Dave must be looking at you intently because his head is craned in such a way.

Dave kept this from you because he valued your friendship so much that he didn’t want to risk anything jeopardizing it. That sentiment makes your heart swell a little in your chest. It also helps remind you of your unresolved feelings about Dave and suddenly you’re feeling hot and uneasy. It suddenly hits you that Dave is actually sitting across from you, not even two feet of distance between you and him.

You decide to distract yourself with another question. “Okay, but there’s something else I wanted to ask you. I thought that you walked to my house Dave, but apparently I live like thirty minutes away. Do you really walk that far every weekend? Because I hope not. Your legs must be olympically toned!” You accompany the sentence with a teasing laugh.

Dave makes an unimpressed face at your lame joke. “Yeah I walk, but it’s not like I walk the whole distance dude. Ever hear of catching a taxi? Those exist around here, you know. I just catch one until I’m in the neighborhood and then I walk the rest of the way. Shit’s good for you, helps keep you conditioned. I can’t afford to slack off, not with my fucking insane brother jumping out of the shadows at me like some hyped up North Viet Cong soldier out of the jungle.”

Dave’s use of analogies never fails to entertain you. You wonder how many he’s capable of coming up with before the creativity well goes dry. “Sorry for asking so many questions. I know that has to be getting annoying by now.”

“Nah, s’fine. I’ve built up a particular resistance just for you, Egbert. Consider yourself special.” Dave smirks at you, though this particular smirk seems to border on what almost looks like a genuine smile. Those familiar fluttering feelings return at that and oh lord, you really are a lost cause aren’t you? There’s no way you’re going to keep these feelings at bay, not when Dave is right in front of you, talking about you like you’re the holy grail of friends.

You really need to get this off your chest. It’s now or never and if there’s anything you’ve learned about waiting and feelings, especially from hearing about Jane’s romantic escapades, you either miss our or you seize the day and act accordingly.

You avert your eyes to the couch cushions and try your best to seem confident when you speak. “So Dave, do you remember what we were talking about on Pesterchum? I mean, what happened the day Jake came over…”

Dave’s answer is carefully timed and level. “Yeah. I thought there wasn’t anything else to that?”

Nervously, you purse your lips and look off to the side. You really don’t want to make eye (shades) contact with Dave right now. You’re afraid you might lose your nerve if you do. “There is. Kind of. Uhh...Dave...when we stopped that day and we, um…” Fuck, this is harder than you thought. You know exactly what you want to say, but the words are lodged in your throat. No matter how much you try to force them out, your mouth just won’t work accordingly. “When we did the thing where we both sort of…” You make some weird, non-helpful motions with your hands in an attempt to articulate what you mean.

Dave raises an eyebrow at you, though he’s content to wait for you to finish. He motions with his hand for you to continue. You try your best to accommodate that wish. “Did we...was there some kind of...I mean, were we about to…” Come on, Egbert, just fucking say it already! Why is it so hard to get that one, little word out? Kiss. Kiss. Kiss kiss kiss. You’re seventeen years old, yet you’re acting like a middle schooler with an infatuation for the class douche.

You feel the tip of Dave’s finger against your lips. He’s taken you off guard and it’s deja vu. Sometime between your inner rambling and loss of concentration, he’s scooted closer to you, so close that his thigh is pressed up against your leg. He still has one arm slung over the back of the couch, though it’s draped around the area where your head should be resting.

When you look up and meet your own reflection in his shades, it’s with a look of bewilderment. You try to say something, anything to dispel the silence, but he shooshes you immediately. “Hey John?” He asks, and you simply stare at him questioningly. “Shut the fuck up.”

Dave moves forward fearlessly, quickly, and presses a kiss to your lips. You don’t have the time to react, the time to move away, because he’s grabbing a handful of your black hair and pulling you forward, trapping your mouth against his. There’s no time for second thoughts, no time for doubt, because he’s making sure that you can’t run away. He knew, he knew all along what you were getting at. Apparently, he also felt the same way because holy shit, Dave motherfucking Strider is kissing you senseless and you can hardly believe that this is happening.

He only relents when he feels you push back, returning the pressure with your own lips, eyes closing of their own accord and hands splaying against his shoulders. His lips are cold, much like the rest of him, though smooth and soft and so nice. The familiar scent of him encompasses you again and it actually serves to relax you, to make you melt even more against him, your body in a limbo of both relief and the underlying current of nerves that comes with kissing the person your heart is geared towards.

Then you’re parting, slowly, barely. All you can do is look at Dave, study his face for any signs of regret or reluctance. But what you can see is just a mirror of your own, barely suppressed wonder, an unplaceable mixture of breathlessness and edge.

The moment doesn’t last, the eye of the storm passing over and being replaced by something even more fierce, more demanding. You meet his lips again, harder this time, more rushed. It’s an open mouthed kiss, urgent and hot and wet, lips sliding against each other hungrily, tongues brushing, fingers clawing at each other’s hair, at each other’s clothes. It’s a parody of every single kiss you’ve seen in all those cheesy romance films. There’s nothing controlled here, no meaningful staring into each other’s eyes, no deep monologues or petting of each other’s hair.

It’s all repressed teenage hormones and want, combined with a desire you never knew you had for Dave until recently. Even then, you didn’t think it went this far. You didn’t realize how close you wanted Dave to be until you kissed him and knew what it felt like. There’s no thought given to you clamboring into his lap, no hesitance when he pulls you flush against him, his hands snaking up under your shirt to slide up your back in a possessive grasp.

It’s all tongues and teeth and gasps and breathy whispers of “fuck I needed this” and “I can’t believe we’re doing this”. When his mouth leaves yours to trail down your jaw, you can’t help but tilt your head back a little and bare your throat to him. When he capitalizes and leaves a borderline painful trail of nibbles and soothing licks, you can’t hold back the gasps and barely subdued whimpers that spill past your lips.

Just as Dave’s bites begin to take on a more desperate nature, there’s a loud knock at the door. “Pizza delivery! Hello?”

Dave pulls back from your neck, his arms still wrapped tightly around you and buried underneath the back of your shirt. You can tell that he does it with a great deal of reluctance. Though a little breathless and still in shock at what just transpired between the two of you, you manage to spare him a considerate albeit shaken smile. “You should go answer that.”

“Can I please not.”

“Dave, food though.”

“Fine. Goddamnit.”

The two of you detach unwillingly and you have to admit that sliding off of Dave’s lap is a surreal experience all on its own. Dave goes to answer the door and you’re left sitting on the couch awkwardly, mulling over what just happened.

Holy. Shit. You just made out with Dave. You were in Dave’s lap, letting him go to town on your neck. Speaking of which, you bet you’re going to have some nice bruises to show for that because hot damn, he was really going at it and your neck is tender to the touch. Even your lips are numb and throbbing from how eager the two of you were.

The sound of the door slamming none too gently let’s you know that Dave is on his way with the pizza. He sets the box on the table and opens it, though neither of you immediately go for any. Instead, you both sit there quietly, the silence thick and uncomfortable.

You’re the one who breaks it. “So does this mean that-”

“Only if you want to.” He interrupts you before you can even finish.

“Like a relationship? A real, romantic one? With this kind of stuff?” You motion up to your neck and disheveled hair and he nods resolutely.

“Yeah. The whole thing. With kissing and making out and shit.”

There’s a pause and then you’re smiling despite the awkwardness. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to do that.”

You see Dave’s lips spread into a smirk. And then wider, and what the hell, is he actually smiling? Jesus Christ, Dave is actually full out smiling for once and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more serene sight. And then he’s laughing, a little airy on his part. “Me too, man. Like, fuck. Yes. Hell yes. Hell fucking yes.”

Your name is John Egbert, and you are unexpectedly and officially Dave Strider’s boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not after this chapter, nor the next, but I do plan on taking a small 2-week hiatus sometime in the future. The upcoming hiatus is going to be spent gathering my thoughts concerning this story and planning out the 2nd-3rd arcs. I'm at a point where I know what I want to do with this story, I just need to create a sort of outline for the next upcoming parts. I hope everyone will understand. I'll be sure to let everyone know when I plan on taking that hiatus.


	8. It Gets Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk pays Jake a visit. Things become a little more muddled than they were before.

**== > Be Dirk**

The Condesce’s throne room is something to behold. All deep, fuchsia fabrics and jeweled trinkets hanging down from the ceiling. The windows overlooking the throne are stained glass, mosaics portraying Her Imperious Condescension in all her glory. The actual throne is made of mithril and studded with gems of various types; it screams of royalty.

You are currently down on one knee, eyes averted to the floor as The Condesce reads over your most recent report. Today, it is only you in her throne room. The other demonic agents have already dropped off their business and are nowhere to be seen. No guards stand posted in her throne room. After all, The Condesce has no use for guards when her own power exceeds that of every other being you’ve ever encountered in your lengthy life.

She could squish you like the insignificant ant you are compared to her.

Today, she is tight-lipped, biting, and harsh. Like she has been for the past few weeks. While her usual behavior is not a far cry from the way she’s acting now, you can sense that something isn’t right with her. Just the slightest change in her behavior is enough to send red lights going off in your mind. Because The Condesce is absolute, unchanging unless she has good reason to. Nothing gets under her skin unless it’s of the utmost importance.

Hesitantly, you raise your head a fraction and gaze at her upon her throne. Her large trident is lying propped up against the side carefully and her legs are crossed over one another as she reads. With courage that you’ve been building up since you first walked into this room, you manage to ask her, “If you don’t mind me inquiring, you seem to have an awful lot on your mind, lately.”

The Condesce pauses her reading, fingers tightening fractionally around the paper you’ve handed her. Her nails are sharp, long and deadly, and painted a vibrant fuchsia. She directs her eyes down upon you, situated at the bottom of the steps leading up to her magnificent throne. They’re a mix of unnerving black and, of course, fuchsia. “Did I ask for your imput, Dirk Strider?”

Her tone is scathing and challenging, a combination that is terrifying in its own right. Yet, you still bring yourself to answer her. Your curiosity will be the death of you one day. “Sorry. I know you didn’t. But I can’t help but notice the change. If something has you concerned, then I can’t help but be concerned myself.”

“You were always too perceptive for your own good, runt.” The derogatory term has long since lost its edge when used against you. You find that there’s no arguing it either, at least when it comes to The Condesce. “However, these matters do not concern anyone of your calibre. Ask me again, and I’ll have your ashes stored in a nice, pretty vase.”

That’s enough to scare you into submission, because you know that if you get on The Condesce’s bad side, she’ll happily go through with it. You swallow thickly and wait for her to finish reading your report. The coolness of the black marble floor is a welcome one and helps ground the rising fear in your gut.

“There’s something bad coming this way.” Her low voice carries throughout the room, and it genuinely takes you by surprise. “Something nasty. But I’ll take care of it.” She’s motioning for you to ascend the stairs, to retrieve the report in her outstretched hand. You do so carefully and slowly, making sure not to let her skin grace your own. “That’s all I will tell you, Dirk Strider. Repeat this information to a single soul, and I will have your pretty little head on a spike for me to admire your bright eyes.” She smiles, viciously, all sharp teeth.

You don’t allow yourself to breath as you nod a single affirmative to her. It takes all your willpower not to flashstep out of the throne room, your demonic instincts begging you to abscond and admit defeat to this infinitely more powerful demon. When the door closes behind you, you let out the breath you’d been holding and shudder a little.

Even after all that, at least you’ve confirmed your suspicions. Something has The Condesce on edge. That’s a bad omen all on its own.

* * *

**== > Be Jake**

It’s a shame, you think, that you’ve spent so much time worrying over Dirk. Not that you don’t think that your concerns were perfectly valid, it’s just that you’ve thrown away so much free time. That’s glaringly obvious now that you’re not pacing the house in thought about the Strider brothers.

At one point today, you’d even paused to ask yourself, “What did I do before all of this happened?”. It’s purely rhetorical and you already know the answer, but it makes you realize all of the hobbies and pastimes you’ve been skipping out on. The movie collection in the den is gathering a bit more dust than usual, your guns are probably in need of polishing, and you haven’t even touched any of your comics since the year began.

Well, not today. No longer will you grey the hairs on your head with paranoia. You’re going to take Jade’s request and run with it. Today, you’re going to go back to the little things you used to enjoy.

Which begs the question: why are you up in the attic right now? All that’s up here are the remains of your grandfather’s possessions, tucked away in boxes and covered up in white sheets that are caked with dust mites. You don’t really let yourself come up here often, mostly out of a sense of prolonged mourning and respect. The only time you’ve been up here recently was the fetch the few books that Jade had alerted you about. She’d specifically packed them up herself when you’d both decided to leave the island.

Other than that, you haven’t allowed yourself to touch your grandfather’s possessions. When you were children, his room had always been off limits. If you or Jade were scared or needed him at night, he always persisted in coming to your rooms instead. When you’d asked him about it once, he’d told you that there were all sorts of dangerous items stored away in his room that weren’t for the likes of children. You had taken his word and even though curiosity ate away at you like it always did, you never invaded his privacy. Same for Jade.

Looking around at all the dusty heirlooms though, you realize that these items no longer have an owner. They’re yours and Jade’s, always has been since his passing. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to look through them. It felt like a betrayal and it enforced the truth that your grandpop was no longer with you.

Standing up here, alone in the house, with the morning light shining through the small attic window and illuminating the dust in the air, you figure it’s about high time to see what your grandfather has been hiding. He must have known you’d find out one day. Otherwise you’re sure he would have left a missive requesting that all his items be destroyed or something. Maybe it was because you were just children.

You don’t really know where to start, so you just begin unearthing random items without any sense of direction. It takes no less than fifteen minutes for the attic to become a cluttered mess of white fabric and cardboard. You end up finding a few large rifle cases stored away under mountains of plastic and cloth in some of the boxes. Old model rifles, the wood of the stocks worn and scratched, the barrels showing small signs of depreciation. Then there was the knife displays, carefully tucked into boxes labeled ‘fragile’, hidden behind glass display and set upon satin altars. You recognize a few of the makes; a couple of World War I trench knives, a few Bowie models, and some Ontario Vietnam era machetes.

They’re all fascinating to you, being the general weapon nut you are. You can definitely understand why your grandfather wanted to keep you away from them as a child. You would have had a field day with these things years ago.

Weapon stashes aside, there’s some other odd trinkets that you find, presumably ones from your grandpop’s world travels. Mostly it’s just sculptures, jewelry, and other culture paraphernalia. You’re pretty sure Jade would love most of these items, once she got past the whole _delving into your dead grandfather’s stuff thing_.

You end up setting most of the boxes aside and storing the weapons back into their respective places. It’s only when you’re about to leave the attic when you notice something relatively sizable in the corner of the room. It’s covered in a large sheet laden with dust and not a single inch of the item underneath can be seen. You probably saw it earlier, but passed it off as a piece of furniture or something. Now that you’re looking at it, curiosity seizes you and you have to know what’s underneath.

When you pull the sheet off, dust goes flying all about the area you’re in and you dissolve into a miserable sneezing fit. Oh, curse your sensitive nose and eyes! You’d think that living on an island of all things would have made you less susceptible, but you guess not.

After you’ve cleared your sinuses of dust and righted yourself, you’re gazing down at the item that was once hidden under the sheet. And boy, if it isn’t the most interesting thing you’ve seen in a long while. This is coming from the person who’s been dealing with demons and demonic culture, so that’s definitely making a statement.

Laying on the floor is a large, incredibly heavy looking chest. For a moment, you wonder how this thing could have even made it up into the attic with how massive it appears. You don’t remember seeing this while moving, so you assume that it must have been the work of the movers. While Jade had gathered the books up on her own, you’d both agreed that maybe the movers should be the ones tasked with packing up your grandpop’s room. You give the chest a good nudge with the toe of your shoe and find that it doesn’t budge.

That’s not what has most of your attention though. The surface of the chest is a very peculiar one. Several symbols and pictures are carved into it, ones that you can’t even begin to decipher. Slowly, you reach out and drag your fingers along the surface, feeling the texture of the carvings and the cold emanating off the steel top. The symbols are arranged in a way that resemble language, horizontal with various spacing in between. But you’ve never seen a language like this before. It’s all sharp strokes and weird angles.

If that wasn’t confusing enough, when you study the markings so closely, you get the underlying feeling that maybe you should know what this means. It’s like a memory sitting in the back of your mind, blurry, indecipherable, yet you know it’s there. No matter how hard you try to pull it to the front, it resists vehemently, refusing to be acknowledged.

You huff out a breath and decide to try and open the chest. Maybe there’s something inside that will shed some light on what it’s supposed to be. Hell, maybe the chest’s design is just some sort of aesthetic thing. It could very well just be another item your grandfather picked up on his travels.

Except, when you place your hands on the edge of the lid and try to open it, it doesn’t budge. You try once more, this time with all your strength. It ends with you rubbing a crink out of your back and breathing heavily with exertion. You have no idea what could have this chest sealed so tightly! There’s not even a visible lock on the outside! Bitterly, you wonder if maybe your grandfather hot glued the surface shut. Or maybe it’s meant to be used as a weird type of hutch. You’re not really sure.

You don’t really have much time to debate on what could be inside, because the sound of the doorbell ringing from downstairs has you shutting up the attic quickly and rushing out. You yell for whoever is persisting outside to wait a moment as you unlock the door. When you open it up, you’re not expecting to see who’s on the other side.

Dirk is staring at you quietly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his gimmick letterman jacket. The bright, yet cold morning sun is shining over his shoulder, illuminating his platinum blonde hair to near-white levels.

Immediately, your mind flies to his humiliating teasing of you in front of John, and you’re all but glaring daggers at him. “Why hello there, Dirk. Have you come to make more lewd insinuations at me?”

“Only if you want me to. I’ve got a whole repertoire of pick up lines just waiting to be used.” He smirks at you, an all too familiar expression coming from him. “Is it so criminal of me to just stop by and say hello?”

You groan a little and pinch the bridge of your nose, pushing your glasses up a bit on your face. “You could have at least let me know beforehand that you were arranging a visit.”

He tilts his head at you, his tone teasing. “Oh, did I interrupt something?” He glances over your shoulder into the house. “You have a significant other I didn’t know about? I’m heartbroken, English. Really.”

“Just pipe down and come in already!” You step back from the door, exasperated. You can tell this is going to be an eventful visit already. Dirk takes your offer and steps in quickly, though his face never turns away from you. You shut the door behind him with a little more force than required, and then you’re glaring at him with crossed arms.

“I can feel the hospitality already, Jake.” He observes, and you know that you must be acting like a petulant child. Jade’s request flashes through your mind once again, and you find yourself deflating.

You release a worn sigh and uncross your arms. “Sorry, I’m just- forgive me. I’m a being a little harsh, aren’t I?”

That prompts Dirk to arch a brow. “Wasn’t expecting that, but hey. It’s cool. Don’t sweat it.” Dirk makes a show of looking around the house by craning his head every which way, probably because he knows you wouldn’t be able to tell by his eyes with his shades on. “You know, last time I was here, I didn’t get a good look at the place. But now that I can stop and observe, you and your sister have quite the digs.”

“A gift in passing from our grandpop. He left us a bank account quite literally overflowing with currency.” As the two of you start to engage in conversation, you begin to walk through the house with no real destination. “We wouldn’t be living in such lavish conditions if it weren’t for his generosity and hard work.”

You and Dirk are just beginning to pass into one of the hallways leading around the house when he nods in acknowledgement. You notice is head turning every which way, studying the various items hung up on the wall or situated on displays. “Did you guys go crazy at an Indiana Jones auction or is this all normal stuff for you?”

The various adventure-esque decorum seems to have Dirk bewildered somewhat, and you actually spare him an amused laugh. “No, this is the usual. If you think this is bonkers, you should have seen our home on the island. We were actually forced to give up a few things here and there to make room for the movers.”

The various decor items are starting to give way to family portraits; pictures upon pictures of your grandfather, you and your sister, and various other family members you’re not too familiar with. Dirk takes an immediate interest in them, and of course he goes for the most obvious one. “Cute kid.”

He’s motioning idly to a picture of you and Jade playing on the beach of the island. In the picture, Jade had built some sort of large sandcastle ridden with her various dolls and you’re busy tracing various lines and shapes into the sand with a stick. You remember that day clearly, much like most of the days spent with your small family on the island.

“That’s a bit unsettling, Dirk.”

Dirks’ face loses its playful demeanor. “You know for a fact that that statement was entirely innocent.”

It’s your turn to smile triumphantly at him. “You’ll have to look past my assumption, then. I’ve just become so accustomed to your less than innocent advances towards me recently.”

“Can you blame me, though? It’d be stupid of me not to try.” He meets your quip head on.

You decide to ignore that and instead take to looking at the portraits yourself. There’s the recognizable ones of you, your sister, and your grandfather, and then the less familiar ones of your parents whom you don’t remember. There’s a few other pictures hanging about, age tinting them a dull sepia. You’re not familiar with any of the faces in them, but you do know that they’re family. So you and Jade hung them up in your house regardless, as a show of respect to your older generations.

You’ve always thought that the various men and women in these picture were quite dapper. In some of the portraits, they’re dressed fancifully and adventure like, often with rifles balanced in front of them or resting against their shoulders. They almost remind you of knickerbocker pictures, but you’re certain that everything captured in those frames are legitimate and not merely for display. It brings a sense of pride to you, to know that your family is riddled with such copacetic individuals.

Dirk comes to a stop in front of a certain picture, and it looks as if he’s really concentrating on it. Or, at least you think so. So hard to tell with his shades. You wait to see if he plans on saying anything. “These two look a lot like you. Mom and dad maybe?”

He would be right. The portrait he’s observing is one of the few of your parents. Your mother is hugging your father with a bright smile on her face, while your old man returns the gesture wholeheartedly. They’re both sporting black hair, with your mother’s being long and wavy like Jade’s and your father sporting a shorter, yet similar style to your own.

“You hit the nail on the head. That’s our mum and pop, about a year or two before they passed away.” You come to stand beside Dirk, and for the first time, you actually notice the inch or two he has on you in terms of height. It makes you feel a little indignant.

“Huh. Sorry about that.” Dirk’s tone is neutral.

“No need for apologies. We never knew them. Or rather, we were much too young to remember them properly. They died in an accident shortly after my sister was born, and so our grandfather took us in under his wing.”

“I never really thought about why the two of you lived alone. I guess it makes a lot more sense now that I know your grandpa left you the equivalent of Fort Knox.” His joke is not lost on you. You laugh a little to let him know you got it.

“Well, now you know. Jade and I get by solo though it wasn’t always like that after grandpop’s death. Our uncle looked after us for a while until I was old enough to take on all that legal hallapalooza myself. John’s pop, to be specific.”

“Guess that’s why you’re so overprotective of him, huh?”

You nod, and your eyes soften a little at your next words. “John’s like a sibling to me. Of course I want to keep him safe.”

Dirk sighs, and turns his head fractionally to you. “Too bad you’re worrying yourself over absolutely nothing. You probably could have spared a few grey hairs on your head if you’d just listened to me from the start.”

Despite how silly the notion is, your hand comes up to pet protectively at your hair. “I certainly do not have a single white hair on my head! And you know full well why I couldn’t believe you outright!”

He full on turns to you, his lips beginning to fray into a small smile. An actual smile, and not just another of his infuriating smirks. “But you believe me now? After everything we’ve talked about and what you’ve seen?”

“I…! I, uhh...” Bashfully, you avert your eyes elsewhere. “Oh! There was something I was meaning to inquire you about, Dirk.”

It’s an awful way of dodging his question, but he takes the bait nonetheless. “And what would that be?”

One of your hands comes up to rub at your arm nervously. You’ve been meaning to address this particular subject anyway and now seems like an opportune time to do it. “I don’t think I ever brought it up in our conversations over Pesterchum since then, but I’ve been meaning to thank you for bringing me home that night.”

Dirk looks confused for a moment before realization dawns on him. “Oh, the club. Yeah, no, don’t worry about it. Though I’m going to take the opportunity to tell you once again that I told you so. Seriously though, I’d either focus on working up your tolerance or dropping drinks altogether because you are one helpless fucking drunk.”

At that, you immediately become defensive and your hands fist petulantly at your sides. “If you hadn’t insulted my tenacity, then I wouldn’t have done it in the first place!

This only seems to amuse Dirk, as his voice takes on a lofty tone. “I’ll just have to babysit you next time. Be sure to snag the drink out of your hand and tsk condescendingly at you like some sort of doting parent.”

“What in blazes makes you think that there’s going to be a second time?” You’ve taken to crossing your arms again, resting your weight on one foot in a smug lean.

Dirk mirrors you, placing his hands on his hips in a confident manner. “Because once you get a taste of Strider swagger, you always come crawling back for more. That’s a fact, not a statement, mind you.” You try to come up with a good comeback, something to playfully injure Dirk’s bravado, but then he’s tilting his head at you questioningly and derailing your train of thought. “You know, I can’t help but notice the sudden tone shift here. At least, on your side of the fence. Not that I’m complaining, because trust me man, I’m thrilled, but what’s up with that?”

Though still bristling a bit from your back and forth gauntlet, you manage to settle yourself down a bit. “I suppose...I may be humoring the idea of actually giving you some leeway on your end.” Dirk brings his hand up in a motion that signals you to clarify. “I’m honestly ready to give you the opportunity to show me that you’re not a complete and utter jackass, Dirk.”

He draws back a smidgen, hands coming up to rest across his heart in false shock. His tone drips sarcasm. “Why Jake, I never thought I’d live to see the day. I was so sure you’d spend the rest of your life pushing me away.”

“I can rescind that offer, you know.” At that, Dirk drops his hands, but not without a mumble of how you can’t take a joke.

“You know that this definitely means you’ll be coming back to the club with me, right?” He looks pleased with that thought, and you can’t find it in you to shoot him down.

You sigh, though you make it seem more forceful than it needs to be. “If it means you won’t beg me to tag along in the future, then fine. I suppose I owe you another outing.”

“Maybe we can work on your alcohol tolerance, maybe even show you how to keep your wits about yourself so you don’t go lusting after every remotely erotic thing you see.” At that, your face really does go red, heat causing your cheeks to flush. “Because I hate to be the one to say it, but you get riled up, even more so when you’re drunk. Might attract too many demons your way and in that state of mind, all kinds of sinful and sultry things might happen.”

You’d all but wanted to repress the memory of you becoming ashamedly aroused while watching those demons feed. Leave it to Dirk to somehow rehash that memory and leave you stewing in a slurry of guilt and self-directed loathing. Worse yet, just reliving the memory in your mind and recalling those fleeting, sexual thoughts has you turning warm with the dregs of deplorable arousal.

When you speak, your words are stuttering and sparsed. “I-I typically have better control over myself. I haven’t the slightest clue what could have overcome me that night.”

Talking about it aloud isn’t helping matters any. You close your eyes tightly in an effort to calm yourself down. With panic, you recall that Dirk is able to sense those kinds of feelings and emotions, and you hope desperately that he doesn’t comment.

Of course, he would never pass up an opportunity like that. “S’not so bad when you actually see it happen instead of hearing scary stories about it, you know?” You know exactly what he’s referring to. The feeding, the glamours, the enticing sight of humans all but losing themselves in sexual gratification. Dirk’s voice has quietened a bit, softer somehow. It doesn’t help your current state. “Did it ever make you want to reconsider?”

You can’t tell what he means by that, but you think there’s only two viable meanings. Either he’s talking about your growing acceptance of demons or your opposition to being fed upon. You’re reluctant to answer either way.

He continues despite your lack of an answer. As he does, he saunters closer to you, standing only a few inches away. “I don’t think you need to answer.” Dirk’s hands come up to rest on your arms just above your elbows, and they’re cold against your feverish skin. This has all taken a very sharp, intimate, and unexpected turn. You’re loathe to admit that the most shocking part is that you’re in no hurry to abscond.

You still try to make an effort to sound somewhat defiant. “What makes you think I would want to pursue anything like that with you?” Despite your best efforts, your voice is anything but resolute.

“You tell me.” Goodness, Dirk’s face is so close to your own and your breathing hitches when you finally take notice. “Don’t you think you should maybe try something first to verify whether or not that’s true?”

Your voice has dropped into a weak whisper and your arms are leaden weights at your sides. “Like what?”

He doesn’t say anything, just slowly closes the distance between your lips. It’s all careful, timed movements with him, as if you’re a wild animal he might scare away. His hands are still resting on your arms, cold, but not restraining in the least. He kisses you with the barest pressure, a soft press of his cool lips against yours and nothing else. For a surreal moment, you worry about your glasses clinking together, but he’s so attentive to what he’s doing.

It feels as if you’re frozen on the spot, your legs encased in ice and the nerves in your hands and arms disconnected from the rest of you. You can’t bring yourself to react against him. All you can do is stand there numbly while your mind explodes into a jumbled mess of, _‘Oh shit he’s kissing me he’s kissing me he’s really kissing me’_.

Then he’s pulling away, enough so that he can look at you properly. He doesn’t say anything, only searches your face for some semblance of a reaction. When you can’t bring yourself to speak, he takes it upon himself to ask, “Still feel opposed to that?”

The seconds drag by slowly, and he’s content with waiting as long as you need him to. Then, in an airy huff, you’re releasing the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and you’re pulling him in to meet your lips again.

He’s more than happy to go along with it, and he kisses you back in earnest, pressing with more pressure and relocating his hands to your face. By all means, it’s not rushed or impatient. It’s not even punctuated with a single touch of tongue or teeth, just you repeatedly kissing him over and over. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Pause. Kiss.

It’s like you’re sampling his palette, trying to unfurl the tangled thoughts in your head with each kiss, trying to decipher whether or not this is good or bad. Judging by the swell in your chest and the rush of blood in your veins, it’s turning out to be a purely positive experience.

That decisive thought comes with a sensual turn in your pecks, a longer press of your mouths together, a slight parting of your lips. His breath matches the rest of him, cold, yet oddly pleasant and his tongue slides wetly across your bottom lip and into your mouth. Your head tilts and his hands slide down the slope of your jaw to cup your neck gently.

He kisses you deeply, with purpose, slow and teasing and more voluptuous than any other kiss you’ve ever had before. It’s suddenly too easy to let your thoughts dissipate into nothing but a hazy state of enjoyment, and soon your hands are cupping his own face in a warm contrast to his chilled skin.

Dirk takes to biting your bottom lip with care, and faintly you can feel his sharp incisors pressing against your skin. You think that should scare you, but then those images of feeding are overtaking your mind again and you can’t help but remember what wonderful feelings those fangs could bring you.

When he realizes that you must be okay with what he’s doing, he bites down a little harder, one of his incisors digging into your lip just enough to break the skin lightly. It stings and makes you wince, but only for a second and then the pain is mysteriously gone. It’s not nearly enough for venom to snake its way into your veins, and you’re left feeling a little contrite at the disappointment that comes with that. He runs his tongue along the cut welling with a few droplets of blood, and then he’s drawing your bottom lip into his mouth and sucking softly.

A satisfied noise emanates from him and the knowledge that he finds you so delicious only serves to make you ache with shameful want even more. He eventually releases your lip and draws you back in for another kiss, another slide of his tongue along yours.

Your hands are sliding up his face and your eyes are peeking open ever so slightly. You press up on his shades, and when he feels it, his eyes open to meet yours in a hooded gaze. It’s the first time you’ve seen them since you met Dirk, and you find that their tangerine color is still beautiful and entrancing. You’re content to just stare into them for hours. His eyes draw you in and you feel as though you could get lost in them, like a ship at sea...

And then, all too suddenly, he’s pulling away from you and pulling his shades back down. All you can do is stare at him in confusion and loss, your fingers coming up slowly to trace the cut on your lip. He licks his lips slowly and links his fingers in front of him. “I don’t want to risk this becoming...something too extreme or…” He seems at a loss of words, and it’s strange and unbecoming of him. “My eyes. The thing they do. Heat of the moment type thing.” You realize what he’s saying. He doesn’t want to accidentally place a suggestion in your mind.

Now that you’re coming down from the high of the kiss, you’re left feeling a little sheepish and at a loss yourself. Mostly though, you’re just flabbergasted at yourself for having engaged in such an activity with Dirk, which wouldn’t be so conflicting if he wasn’t a demon. Ultimately, you just indirectly admitted to yourself that you’d be totally fine with kissing Dirk Strider if he wasn’t a demon, and that revelation is a hefty one all on its own.

The awkward atmosphere is quite obvious and the silence between the two of you is starting to become almost painful. Dirk takes it upon himself to do something about it. “I think I should leave. For right now I mean. Yeah.” He starts walking down the hallway, back to the foyer where the front door is.

You’re moving before you can even think about what you want to say. You catch him just as he goes through the arch leading into the foyer. Quickly, you reach out, grabbing his wrist and effectively rooting him. He doesn’t struggle, only turns to fix you with an unreadable face. “Dirk, I-” You hesitate, unsure of what to say. You try to to make your rambling as simple as possible. “I’m just- I’m uncertain. About everything. About this. I just need some time… I can’t even wrap my head around what just happened.”

He seems to understand. He nods, though his face is wiped clear of any discernable emotion. “I know. That’s why I want to leave. To give you some space. To think about all of this. Before I try anything else.” Dirk is pulling out of your grasp and heading towards the door once again. This time, you don’t try to stop him, and when the door pulls shut behind him, it takes everything in you not to let yourself sink down into the floor.

What the ever loving hell did you just get yourself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the planned hiatus is coming up soon, and it might be just a bit longer than I first predicted. The original wait time was estimated to be 2 weeks, but it looks like it might be around a month before this story resumes, though I'm not too sure if it will actually take that long. I will go into detail as to why I'm taking this hiatus: 
> 
> 1) As said before, I need to take some time out to plan the next 2 arcs of the story. I have everything outlined, I just need to flesh out certain plot points and what not. I like to get ahead in my stories instead of writing each chapter between the planned post dates. That way, I don't feel pressured while writing and can guarantee top notch quality chapters for you guys instead of rushed messes. So my plan is to brainstorm/write the next few chapters of the story, and then resume posting them a few weeks from now on a weekly basis, as I have been posting them up until this point. 
> 
> 2) I've been busy with certain events in my life (working on cosplay, making art on the side, juggling time spent with my friends/family, making plans for school this coming fall). It makes it hard for me to focus on writing the story when I have a lot of disruptions. I'm the kind of person where once I get on the ball, I don't like for anything to take my attention away. So being busy with all of this stuff, it's been hard for me to get a lot of planning/content done. However, I plan on working through these issues. 
> 
> I want to make it perfectly clear that I **DO NOT PLAN ON DROPPING THIS STORY**. I am determined to see this thing through to the end, no matter how long it takes me to crank it all out. There might be a few pauses and breaks along the road, but they won't happen suddenly and I'll always try my best to keep everyone informed. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day/night! :)


	9. Trench Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose is a seer, Dave has his inner turmoil, and Jake calls upon Dirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a million apologies for the huge delay with this story. I'm about 3 months late with this update, and I apologize profusely. Real life responsibilities and time limits have taken their toll on me and will continue to, but I'm still very much interested in this story and will be trying to write on it more often. Thank you to everyone who sent me messages over the hiatus. I love you all so very much! <3

**== > Be Rose**

Normality is something that you often find yourself trying to work towards despite the hand of cards you’ve been dealt. You’ve made your friends, maintained them for years, are currently gearing yourself for college and what you hope to be a successful career as a psychologist, and remain an anchor for your older, spontaneous sister.

Despite the visions, premonitions, and ability to feel demonic presence, you think you’ve done a swell job at painting yourself as a perfectly sane, albeit slightly strange high school girl. Your friends are blissfully unaware of your rare talents and you prefer to keep it that way. Everything seemed to be sailing smooth as always, until you recently learned of who John Egbert had befriended.

You didn’t need to see him to know what he was. Dave Strider is not an unfamiliar name to you. The Strider name is one that you know well, and that is largely in part due to your sister Roxy’s affiliations with them. Much like yourself, Roxy possesses the same psychic gift, though her own power seems to be a bit weaker than yours. It was what lead her to befriending Dave’s older brother, and her integration into their small circle of confidantes and friends.

Eventually, you were introduced to Dave in person during a brief and rare visit to John’s house. You saw recognition in his eyes, and he must have known who you were by your name. He played it off smoothly though, and it went without a hitch. Up until that point, you’d only heard of him through Roxy and John’s giddy descriptions, so you’re not well acquainted with him. However, you’ve heard enough about him to know that he’s not choicely evil and thus you don’t feel wary about his and John’s relationship.

You didn’t warrant it being a threat to anyone’s wellbeing, so you passed off this eventful meeting of the two as something benign. It was only when you foresaw something about Jade’s brother that you became nervous over the matter. Visions about your friends and their futures weren’t uncommon, but you and Jake weren’t well acquainted. Usually your visions were in relation to things that were relevant to you, and considering the only time you really spoke to Jake was when he dropped Jade off at your house, he wasn't one of those things.

But the vision came to you regardless, and when you saw what he was planning to do and what the outcome of it would be, it set you on edge. It also alerted you to the fact that Jade and Jake were both well aware of demons and that their disposition towards them was anything but welcoming. That brought Dave’s wellbeing to the forefront and everyone who was currently associating with him.

To you and your sister, demons aren’t exactly the pinnacle of goodness in the world, but you do see them as meaningful individuals that deserve as spot in the world as much as anyone else. Your easy acceptance of demons isn’t something that is considered common, but your strange psychic family has practiced it for centuries, or so you’ve been told.

That’s what eventually led to you revealing your secret to Jade in an attempt to sway her stance on the matter and perhaps minimize the possibility of conflict. Of course, you were careful not to drop Dave’s name in the hopes that maybe she hadn’t found out about him yet. To Jade, Dave was still an innocent acquaintance.

Predictably, she didn’t believe you at first when you told her about your powers. So you went out of your way to prove it to her, and that was a migraine all on it’s own. Trying to focus on specific individuals tended to be a strain on your powers, but you’d successfully foretold the next week of her life, and it served to make her believe you.

Then, exactly how you had planned it out, she revealed her knowledge of demons to you as well. The next few visits you shared together were spent in deep discussion about demons, morality, and their right to peaceful life. Fortunately, Jade proved to be an understanding individual, and she was more than ready to see things from your perspective. She did show great reluctance at first though, revealing that it felt like she was going against her grandfather’s teachings. You reassured her that there was nothing wrong with changing and expanding her view on things, and that she still had a right to be a bit wary of demons as a whole.

That was one blemish smoothed out. As for Jake, you were mainly banking on Jade being the one to change his perspective; that there would be a domino effect and she would repeat your words to him. It wasn’t anything you expected to happen right away, so you were content to wait for the opportunity to present itself to Jade. You knew it wouldn’t be an easy subject for her to breach, considering her brother’s radical stance on the matter.

The days passed uneventfully. John still gushed to you about Dave at school, you often engaged Jade in conversation either in person or over Pesterchum, and you relayed all of this information to Roxy. She agreed that what you did was “totally great and wow Rose you really fucking saved Dave’s ass there like damn”. Likewise, she promised to get in touch with Dirk soon, but not too soon since she claimed to be “totes” busy with college.

After a week or so had passed since your conversation with Jade and January was starting to come to a close, something peculiar had happened. It started with dreams; blurry, unintelligible, and reminiscent of when you’d first started to acquire your psychic abilities. These same dreams plagued you in the days leading up to February, and still they persisted. With each passing night, the blurriness of them began to smooth away, revealing to you bits and pieces of what lied underneath.

At first, it was merely a bright light wavering in the distance, surrounded by darkness closing in from all directions. The black staining the corners of your vision reminded you of storm clouds, smokey and foreboding. With each passing night, everything slowly came into focus, and the sight before you in your dreams left you silent with shock.

The little details in the background gave way to the place you call home, the quaint little neighborhood where all your friends live and the city that lies just outside. All of it was caught aflame, melting to the ground, covered in the inky black tendrils of the clouds that threatened to overtake the scene completely.

But there was one thing keeping the darkness and flames from swallowing your vision. The light emanating from the center of it all fought against the looming blackness converging in on it, and if you focused hard enough, you could almost make out a figure standing in that pinnacle of light.

Then, as if plucking a rock out of the gears, time began moving forward again in your dream and the scene was no longer frozen, but animated with frightening details. The darkness gave way to humanoid abominations, the screams of people in the distance chilled you to the bone, and on the horizon, behind the pillar of light in the center of it all, rose a foul beast unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Common words could not do its presence justice.

The light however did not waver, but instead grew brighter. The monster rising in the distance posed an open challenge, and the two began to close in on one another. As they did, the buildings around them begin to crumble, and the sky grew red with the weight of their power.  
That was the last dream you’ve had up until this moment; the current moment being you wrenching awake from your dream and staring at your lavender blanket in utter confusion. The sound of the rain pattering away at your window is the only discernable noise aside from your ragged breathing.

What was that? Was that really what all these dreams had been leading up to? Usually your  
dreams persisted of mundane visions of the future, such as you going about making dinner, or your friends talking to each other. Never...never something like this. Never something so ominous  
and unsettling.

It feels like your stomach is hollow. You wish you could pass it all off as a simple nightmare, but you’re Rose Lalonde, psychic extraordinaire, and your dreams are never just normal. Yet, you try anyway. You try to tell yourself that it must have been the product of you delving into more Cthulhuian tales and psyching yourself out. A product of your fascination with horror movies, novelia, and the like. A combination of sadly absurd obsessions.

As you lie down and try to force yourself back to sleep, you get the ill inkling that its more significant than you want to believe.

 

* * *

 

**== > Be Dave**

If there was one word to sum up your life at the moment, “rad” would probably be at the forefront of those words. Probably preceded by a neatly placed “hella”.

John Egbert is currently wrapped around you like a blanket in the morning as you try to wrench yourself out of bed because you’re late for school and your parents are screaming bloody murder at you. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, being a demon that was born centuries prior to the implementation of the current education system, but whatever.

His head is tucked in the space between your jaw and shoulder and his fingers are trailing lightly against your own, a stark contrast between his dark skin and your pigmentless own. The two of you are decked out on the couch, a mountain of movie cases littering the coffee table in front of you. It had taken a good thirty minutes of haggling movie genres with John until you’d both decided on one.

On the television is _1408_ , and John Cussack is busy shaking his mini fridge and demanding for it to explain to him what’s happening. You wonder how on earth this is supposed to be a suspense movie when it has ridiculous scenes like this, but you guess you’d probably be flipping your shit too if you were trapped in a hotel room with malevolent ghosts trying their damndest to drive you fucking insane.

You hear John laugh at the other John, his eyes never leaving the television and his voice making vibrations across your skin.

Yeah, your life at the moment is pretty fucking fantastic if you had to say. Though you’d entertained the thought plenty of times before, being in an actual relationship with John has proved to be different than what you thought it would be.

For starters, it’s not nearly as hot and heavy as you envisioned, but you can blame that mostly on your demonic desires. That’s not necessarily bad though, because getting to hold your boyfriend and watch crappy movies with him is amazing in its own right. No complaints from you right now. You’re still kind of reeling from the fact that this is still a real thing and not just a sappy dream.

That’s nice and all, but of course the week or so you’ve been with John hasn’t come without a bump or two in the road concerning the added intimacy. There has been a handful of moments where you’ve been in the middle of some amorous makeouts only to find yourself nearly biting into John’s neck and salivating at the thought of it.

Control is something that’s been pounded into your head by Dirk, something he’s worked hard on with you to make sure that you don’t accidentally murder your donors. Honestly, you haven’t had issues with control in centuries. The thoughts are still there in there back of your head when you feed sometimes. _Maybe I can take just a little bit more, maybe I can take all of it, maybe just this one person won’t make a difference._ But you never have trouble pushing those urges down and forcing yourself away.

With John, it takes all your effort not to bite down, not to force your fangs through his skin like a hot knife through butter. His scent has always been tempting, but up close and dowsed with sexual energy, it’s like a siren’s song beckoning you to taste him.

Each time he brings you in for a kiss, each time your mouth finds its way to his neck, it becomes harder and harder to fight down those primal instincts.

It frightens you every time, because you don’t want to drive him away. It’s so conflicting, because you’ve yearned to drink him up and played out that scene in your head a dozen times since meeting him, but now you can’t fathom even trying it. You know that when he sees you like that - bloody mouthed with fangs bared and your eyes glowing red through your shades - that he’ll see you as a monster and he won’t want you anymore.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize how much time is passing. You hear John call your name, and your vision focuses back on the present to find the movie credits rolling, and John peering up at you with a questioning look.

“Dave? Helloooooooo, earth to Dave? Are you there?” He waves his free hand in front of your face a bit, and you snatch it playfully.

“Still here and kicking, Egbert. By the way, that movie was fucking balls. I couldn’t take anything seriously after the mini fridge spectacle.” Your voice is obviously teasing and John tries his best to appear annoyed.

“Shush! It was great and you know it! You can’t tell me that the scene with Cussack and his daughter wasn’t sad. It was cinematic art, Dave. Art I tell you!” John sticks his tongue out at you, and you contemplate flicking it with your finger.

“If by art, you mean totally awkward acting and B grade movie effects.” To be honest, you didn’t even pay attention long enough to see that scene, but you like to ruffle John’s feathers. Honestly, you find it really endearing when he gets so passionate about his movies.

“No!” John raises up to his knees on the couch and presses both of his hands to your chest. “It was great! The glass, the emotion, the little girl, the dialogue - it was all put together so expertly and I honestly don’t see how it didn’t have you on the verge of tears.”

“Dude, you know I’m incapable of tears. I’m too fucking manly for that.” As you speak, you reach out and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him forward so that he’s resting in your lap. John makes a show of trying to protest, but gives up quickly in lieu of pressing himself closely to you. His arms are draped loosely around your neck, warm against the coolness of your unnatural skin.

“There’s nothing unmanly about crying about the beautiful relationship between a father and daughter, Dave. Gosh, you really need to get in touch with your sensitive side. I should show you Con Air sometime. You’d love that movie!”

Con Air is not unfamiliar to you, and you can tell where this conversation is going to go if you don’t try to derail it. Nic Cage is not good subject matter, at least not to you. “I’m plenty in touch with my sensitive side, dude. I’m all about that business.” You don’t care if that sounds contradictory to your earlier statement. The volume of your voices drops slightly, and your tone softens a bit. “Come on, John. You of all people should know that.”

It works, and the direction of your conversation takes a completely different one. John appears to be a little bashful as he responds to you. “There’s a difference between sensitive and sensual.”

While you’re well accustomed to physical intimacy and accept it readily, you have to keep in mind that John is still fairly green to it, let alone the concept of being with someone of the same gender. Yeah, the two of you had that whole talk. Apparently, he’d never considered bisexuality until he’d met you. That revelation made you a little proud of yourself. Oh, how the extremist right wing masses would pale at your horrid gay agenda.

He’s flustered right now, and rightfully so, as he has been with you each time you engage him romantically. The kiss you’d shared with him in your apartment was the product of a heated moment and stockpiled feelings, but it had been followed by some of the most awkward conversation subject and feelings jam you’ve ever had in your immortal life.

Just another reason why your relationship with John hasn’t matched your fantasies about him. He’s not like you, nor is he an enthralled donor that you can encourage by placing a suggestion in his mind. You have to be patient with him, respectful of his boundaries. He is not your meal. He is not your one-night stand.

He is your boyfriend. Your lover. Something incredibly precious and important to you. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable or fuck with his agency.

“I think they go hand in hand with each other, like rap rock and professional wrestling.” That analogy manages to make him laugh a little, and you spare him the fraction of a smile. “But seriously dude, you know you like it.”

At that, John does flush a smidgen, his face turning a faint shade of red. He shakes his head a little, almost comically. “Shhhhhh. No, Dave, no.”

“Yes, John, yes.” Your hand trails up to pet at the messy tufts of his hair that refuse to lie flat against his head. He visibly relaxes at that, his shoulders losing some of their tension and lowering slightly. His eyes even drift closed, and you find the sight of it charming, beautiful. It’s a habit you just can’t seem to kick. Sometimes you get so lost in simply staring at John and his reactions that you often feel a bit creepy about it.

Your hand eventually leaves his hair to find the back of his neck, where you pull him in to press a kiss against his warm lips. He comes happily, with no resistance, and habitually tilts his head so that your glasses don’t clink together. Momentarily, you wonder what it would be like to kiss him without worrying about your eyewear colliding, to be able to stare openly at him without the darkness of your shades clouding your vision. It’s a futile thought.

He draws one of his arms back, enough to press his hand against your cheek, to splay his fingers as they tease at the edge of your aviators. You know he wants to remove them, has asked you in the past few days if he could before, only to be turned down and left in the dark about your eyes. But it’s better this way. Safer.

It’s just your luck of the draw Some of your kind are lucky enough to inherit seemingly normal eye colors, even if they do happen to shimmer and glow unlike humans. They can blend in without trying too hard, but you? No, you get the freaky red eyes. Even Dirk’s orange eyes could pass for an extremely bright hazel color. You have the generic demon eyes that would send most fleeing if they were to catch a peak.

You hate withholding these secrets from John. It feels wrong, dirty, like he deserves to know. You can’t tell him though. You can’t, you can’t.

Gently, you break the kiss and press him back a few inches. His voice is quiet, unsure as he says your name. “Dave…?”

Already, you’re helping him off your lap, and shooting him what you hope is a sympathetic look. You’re not good at conveying those types of emotions though, so it probably just looks like an awkward quirk of your lips to him. “I gotta go soon. Got shit to take care of with Dirk. He’ll kick my ass all over the roof if I forget.”

It’s not a lie. You promised Dirk that you’d assist with the job he’s been tasked with tonight. The demon he’s supposed to confront is a dangerous and unpredictable one, and he’d requested your backup as a safety precaution on his part.

“Already?” John’s voice is glum, and he’s visibly let down by your sudden announcement. “Dude, we only got one movie off.”

“Hey, one less shitty movie crossed off the list. We keep going at this rate, and soon I’ll have to introduce you to my collection. And it will be amazing.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he huffs about your insult to his movies.

“Oh no, I’ve heard about your movies. They don’t make any sense, Dave. They’re all weird and ironic and the humor is really off the wall and totally out of left field. That’s not how you do comedy.” He crosses his arms in an attempt to appear condemnatory.

“Dude, listen. Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: The Moive is amazing. It’s more than amazing. It’s an instant classic, with unprecedented implements of humor that has spawned an entire tree of comedy tropes. Don’t be hating.” You raise from your seat on the couch and hold out your hands for John to take so he can rise with you. Once more, you pull him in for a soft, brief kiss. You feel his grip on your hands tighten momentarily, as if he’s reluctant to let you go. “But seriously, gotta go. Like right now. Roof. Ass kicking. Don’t want it.”

“I get it, I get it.” John grumbles. “Message me tonight so I know that you’re not dead.”

“I will. And if I don’t, you have every right to conduct a seance to ask my shitty ghost what happened.” With a bit of reluctance yourself, you pull your hands from John’s and turn to head for the door. “See you later, babe.”

“Dave!” You don’t have to look to know that he’s blushing at the endearment.

 

* * *

 

**== > Be Jake**

Usually your nights are spent sleeping dreamlessly without a hitch. Tonight, however, is not one of those nights.

Once again, you’re tearing yourself out of your nightmare, grabbing wildly at the covers attempting to hold you down with a sort of panic that has your breath coming in scratchy rasps and your body parts shaking violently. You gaze about your room with startled eyes, searching anxiously for any signs of the monster plaguing your dreams. Dark green walls, familiar gun cabinet, your computer desk a mess with your usual comics and pieces of weaponry.

Nothing out of the norm. No nightmarish monster threatening to level another city with the power of its roar. No fires raging, no people screaming, no gore littering the ground in disgusting clumps. Just you, safely in your bed, and once again letting a nightmare get the best of you.

You toss yourself back into your pillows none too gently and sling an arm over your eyes. It was the same nightmare from a few weeks ago. The one that coerced you into speaking to Dirk. Only this time around, it was exponentially more gruesome and detailed. Thus, it was more realistic and you’d be a blatant liar to say that it doesn’t have you shaken up again.

Hesitantly, you peek out from under your arm at the clock resting on your desk. It’s reading a little after 2AM and you can’t help but sigh irritably. It’s not even a reasonable hour to get up, and there’s no way on this green planet that you’ll be falling back asleep anytime soon. Not after that spine-chilling spectacle.

You won’t pester your sister with this. It’s a school night for her and she needs her rest. You don’t even get to go through your usual process of elimination before Dirk’s name is popping up in your mind. Knowing him, he’s bound to be awake right now. If not, it’s not like you couldn’t just distract yourself for a few hours until sunrise.

A feeling of self-pity overcomes you. You’re twenty-one years old and still afraid of things that go bump in the night. Just like last time, you feel so childish and immature.

That doesn’t stop you from taking a seat at your desk and turning your computer on. You wait for the windows start up screen to do its thing, and as your desktop loads up and your system’s programs start initializing, the Pesterchum login screen appears.

Quickly, you type in your login information, and when you see that Dirk’s chumhandle is still lit up in that bright orange color, you actually release a sigh of relief. Without so much as even rehearsing what you’re going to say, you’re already clicking on his name and typing out a message.

Nevermind the fact that the two of you haven’t really spoken since the whole kiss debacle.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

GT: Dirk? Oh please tell me that youre actually on and not just away.  
TT: I’m here. What’s going on and why are you up so late? Are you okay?  
GT: Yes. I mean sort of. Not really?   
TT: You’re going to have to be more in-depth than that.  
GT: Ill be frank with you. I had that awful dream once again.  
TT: Oh. Need someone to talk to or? 

You bite your lip, thoughtful for a moment. The next thing you type is blamed on your lack of proper cognition at this hour.

GT: I would actually like to have your company right now old chum. If you dont mind that is.  
TT: I’ll be over soon.

He didn’t even wait ten seconds before typing that reply out. No thought on his part, no consideration. He’s just going to...come over and babysit you until you feel well enough to sleep again. You can’t shoot back any kind of thank you before the red icon indicating that he’s “busy” pops up.

As you minimize the Pesterchum program and busy yourself with fribble distractions on other websites, you can’t help but feel so buoyant at the fact that Dirk didn’t hesitate to drop whatever he was doing to come spend time with you. Of course you’re mindful of the fact that maybe he just didn’t have anything going on at the moment, considering the hour, but still! You’re allowed to be happy about that.

Twenty minutes pass by slowly, and it’s only when you hear a faint tapping against your balcony door that you move away from your computer. You draw one of the balcony curtains back and find Dirk standing there with one hand in his pocket and a not-so-subtle katana clasped in the other. Dark red splotches are scattered across his clothing and skin.

In a rush, you’re pushing open the balcony doors and stepping outside, forgetful of your own dilemma and more worried about his current state. “Jesus Kristopher Kringlefucker, Dirk, what on earth happened to you? And why are you towing around such a deadly weapon? Are you okay?” As you step forward, you rest your hands on his shoulders, searching him for any wounds.

All he does is shrug, as if there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the current picture. “Chill. I’m fine, I promise. Just had some business to attend to tonight. No big deal.” He gently eases himself away from your hands, and you won’t let yourself admit that the loss of contact leaves you feeling a little blue.

Well that, or it might just be the frigid February temperatures contributing to that feeling. You’re decked out in sleeping shorts and a t-shirt, which leaves a decent amount of skin exposed to the elements. Goosebumps are already marring your hide.

He slings his sheathed katana up and over his shoulder as he walks around your balcony idly. “So, you wanna talk about it?”

Do you? If you’re being honest, you really don’t want to. If anything, you just want to take your mind off of the whole ordeal. So you shake your head regretfully. “No, I’m sorry. I would really just like to busy myself with something else for the time being. If you don’t mind, that is.” You mirror Dirk’s restlessness somewhat, shifting your weight from one foot to the next.

He nods nonetheless. “S’cool. You wanna take a walk or something?” He nods towards the dark, rain-dampened neighborhood. Taking a walk at 2AM sounds like a dangerous thing to do, even in the quiet suburbs where you live. However, you think that Dirk is more than qualified to handle whatever skeevy threat might appear, especially considering that he’s currently covered in blood and brandishing a fucking katana no less.

So you decide to agree to that idea. A walk might do you some good, give you some time to clear your head and get away from your bedroom for a bit. “Sounds dapper. Though, you’ll have to give me a moment. I can’t go out like this, unless I want to freeze my dingleberries off.”

He cracks an amused smirk at that. “Go change then. I don’t want to be the one to rush you to the hospital with a cooler filled with nothing but ice and your balls.”

You flush a little at how crude his words are, but don’t comment any further. As you walk back into your room, you close the balcony doors and draw the curtains. The thought of Dirk being just outside your room as you change has you turning even warmer, but you push that thought to the back of your mind and focus on finding a suitable pair of pants and a jacket.

When you’re dressed in clothes that are a bit better suited for the cold February weather and have found a pair of shoes to slip on, you open the balcony doors again to find Dirk leaning against the railing with his katana slung over his shoulder. He turns to you and cocks a brow questioningly. “Ready to go?”

“Right-o! Should we head downstairs?” He nods at you, though it’s punctuated with a growing smirk now. Some might call you dense, but you know a mischievous look when you see one, and Dirk is looking too coy for his own good. “Is...is everything okay?”

“Hella.” He steps towards you, closing the small bit of space the two of you have on your little balcony. One arm reaches out and his fingers tentatively touch your waist, which serves to make you bristle a bit; not out of discomfort, but rather excitement. You falter for a moment, mouth full of air and unvoiced questions.

Then he’s sidling up to you and wrapping one arm around your waist. The beginning of a question begins to make its way out of your mouth, but it quickly becomes lodged in your throat when Dirk starts moving.

Or rather, when he jumps clean over the balcony with you held tight against his side and the two of you soar gracefully to the ground. You probably would have screamed if you could, but your pride refused to let such an unbecoming noise escape you. That was at least a twenty foot drop, but Dirk lands with the poise of a cat; first one foot, and then the other coming down to meet the ground with no trouble at all.

What surprises you the most is that he was able to do all that without jostling you one bit. You’re still snug against his side, with your own two feet touching the ground, though your stomach feels as though it’s flown up into your chest. Your breath is coming a little quicker due to your minute panic, and Dirk must notice because he fixes you with an amused look.

“You afraid of heights, English?” He releases you, though carefully, making sure that you’re not about to topple over. His hands are cold as always, rivalling the chill of the frigid night air.

When you’re confident that your voice isn’t about to do its best impression of laminating paper, you answer him breathily. “Of course not. But a little warning would have been peaches and cream, if you don’t mind! I don’t usually go soaring over my balcony on a daily basis, Strider.”

“The balcony is nothing. Now, my apartment on the other hand-”

You can’t help but gawk. “That is ludacris! How do you even scale that thing? There are no visible outcroppings.”

Dirk smirks a bit at that. “Never said I had to have something to grab onto.”

“That...that is weird. Very weird. What are you, Bela Lugosi?” As the two of you chatter on, you begin to walk along the road that loops around the neighborhood. It’s 2AM, so obviously no one is out and the houses are all dark and quiet.

“Bela Lugosi was the guy who played Dracula, not the name of the vampire. Come on, English, I thought you of all people would know that.” Dirk stays close to you, his arm nearly brushing your own. Even with the thicker clothes on, the cold February night nips at you like a hungry wolf. You hug your arms close to your body in an attempt to save some of the heat there.

“I was never a fan of vampires to begin. Now werewolf movies I can get behind! Set me up with a dvd of Van Helsing, and I will be your first mate for the night.” You shoot him a smile, and he catches it for a moment before turning his attention straight ahead, though his lips seemingly twitch upwards a bit, as though he’s trying to hold back a smile of his own.

“Still technically a vampire movie. Just because the main protagonist happens to turn into a werewolf doesn’t discount that it’s still largely a vampire flick. Besides, werewolves are disgusting and barbaric. At least vampires put on a class act.”

You shake your head in disagreement. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen my fair share of gory and less than appealing vampire flicks. They can’t all be like your demon brethren.” Feeling a bit playful despite how tense you’d been feeling earlier, you pretend to swoon a bit, which actually wrings a small laugh out of Dirk.

“Whatever you say, Jake. By the way, ten out of ten on the swooning damsel. Could use more falling into my arms and staring dreamily into my eyes, though.” You shove at his arm with a scoff, and he barely budges over. Damn demons and their stoutness. “Come on, that was smooth as fuck and you know it.”

“Seems to me like you’re in the mindframe that everything you do is nigh perfect.” Faster than you’ve realized, the two of you are coming up on the curve that will loop around back to your house. Realizing you have a limited time left to walk with him reminds you of a question you’d been meaning to ask since you first saw him tonight. “So, about earlier...what happened to lead to that?” You motion towards his blood splattered clothing and the katana he’s still touting at his side.

He doesn’t answer immediately, opting to stay silent for about a minute before indulging your question. “Had a search job tonight. Just another demon that couldn’t follow the rules. Didn’t want to come quietly, so things got a bit...messy.”

“You killed them?” You ask, your voice dropping in volume. It’s the first time you’ve personally heard of Dirk harming someone. The concept never really sank in until now. Demon or not, death and murder are still distant subjects to you.

“I did.” Dirk’s answer is short and curt. “When you don’t comply with Derse’s laws, you either have two options: spend a decade or two locked up in a cell or submit to death. I gave them the choice and they chose the latter.”

You don’t say anything to that. You’re not sure you can add anything meaningful. Instead, you latch onto the one thing that you think can keep the conversation going. You faintly remember Dirk having mentioned something like this before that day in the library. “Derse laws? So it was some sort of execution, right?” You pause, directing your eyes to the wet pavement under your feet. “What are you, Dirk? Some kind of vigilante or enforcer?”

“I guess enforcer would be the closest thing to what I do. I basically work for what can only be described as the mother of all demons. I mean that both figuratively and kind of literally. They call her The Condesce, or in more formal terms, Her Imperious Condescension. She’s a mean bitch, but she gets shit done and it keeps both Derse and the human world running smoothly. She’s the reason for the major reform that happened a few centuries back, when all those hunter families were seriously cracking down on demon covens.”

“Ah, yes. I remember you mentioning her once before as well. Is she some sort of queen?”

You see an amused look cross his face. “I suppose you could say that. But not like you probably think. She’s not all fancy and decked out in crazy dresses or anything. More like, a skin tight wetsuit and way too many golden bangles than should be legal. She also carries around this giant golden trident that she sometimes likes to spear through lesser demons when they’re being incompetent. In the words of my little bro, _‘Totally has a black widow vibe to her’_.”

“Wow.” Your voice shakes a bit at that. You can’t believe that Dirk is working for such an insane individual. How on earth does he handle that kind of pressure? What does one little mess up on his part entail? A streak of worry has your brows furrowing. “So is this an every once in awhile occurrence or…?”

He shakes his head. “Every single night, almost. There’s at least one demon around here that needs to be reminded constantly. Usually the second or third warning is where I draw the line. But yeah, that’s usually what I spend most of my nights doing.”

“What about rest? Do you just sleep all morning? Is that why I hardly ever see you until the afternoon?” Your house is becoming visible again, your lap around the neighborhood taking less time than you thought it would.

“Okay, first of all, the second part is because I never see your Pesterchum name become active until after 1PM. So that’s on you. As for actual sleep, I don’t really need it. At least, not like humans do. Two weeks is usually how long I can go before a day of rest is needed.”

You decidedly ignore his quip about your Pesterchum account, mostly because you know your sleeping habits are garbage and you really don’t mean to sleep in past noon all the time. “So you’re up all day and night? My word, I have no idea what I would do with so much time on my hands.”

Dirk sighs. “When you’ve been alive for centuries, you find ways to pass time. It used to be constant training and raising my little bro, but now it’s mostly just music, work, and...now you, I guess.” A bit of warmth spreads through your chest at that, for reasons you’re not entirely sure of. Perhaps it’s just because such a fascinating person as Dirk is devoting a decent portion of his time to you. “Speaking of time, how about three days from now?”

A confused look crosses your face. “Uhh...what exactly is in three days?”

Dirk gently bumps the back of your head with his knuckles. “Valentine’s Day, man, come on. Only the most profitable day for flower shops everywhere. Second most profitable for candy stores, right behind Halloween. You got any plans with a nice person?”

“Oh hush, you. We’ve been over this. I’m not in a relationship with anyone at the moment.” You feel a little bashful at his prodding.

“Just making sure. You know, I’d feel awful guilty after what happened a few days ago. Oh fuck, who am I kidding, no I wouldn’t.” Dirk tilts his head at you, the smirk on his face mischievous and sly. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t an attractive expression on him.

And oh lord, that kiss. You’d all but forgotten about it in the aftermath of your nightmare. You’ve been driving yourself crazy thinking about that kiss, but Dirk seems to have worked out all the kinks. Still, his admittance to not feeling any guilt brings up something bitter in you. “Of course you wouldn’t feel any guilt. Your kind is engineered towards brief flings and swift goodbyes, after all.” Your chest constricts uncomfortably, and the words feel like cotton in your mouth.

His arm comes around your shoulders and he pulls you close enough that your head is pressed against his neck. The bright orange aura that only you can see radiating out from him flares a bit at that. “Hey, English, relax. That was mostly a joke.”

It’s petulant of you, and you know it, but you huff out irritably. “Mostly.”

Dirk stops walking and roots you in place with his hands on your shoulders, only about two dozen feet away from your home now. With the good mood mostly ruined on your part, you were looking forward to saying goodbye and moping about until sleep claimed you again, but Dirk has other plans apparently. “Hey, listen...my sexual escapades and my personal relationships are two different things. I don’t know what’s running through that shell of yours, but if you think I throw away my friends like my one night stands, then I have some news for you.”

Your eyes harden despite his words. “Well then, excuse me for jumping to conclusions. It’s just that I have no idea as to which category I happen to fall under.”

He sighs, almost exasperatedly, as if you’re a child he’s been reiterating his point to over and over again. “If it was sex and blood I was looking for, you know for a fact we wouldn’t be walking together at 2AM like this. You know who does this kind of shit, Jake? Sappy teens in sappy movies on the sappy ass Hallmark channel.”

“Well, can you please just make your intentions perfectly clear so I can stop feeling like I’m being tugged around on a leash like some kind of show dog?” You level Dirk with a serious look, his shades actually serving as a good focal point to stem your nervousness.

“Holy. Shit.” He punctuates each word with a small shake of your shoulders. Then he’s leaning forward, his face coming within breathing space of your own. “I like you. You’re fucking annoying sometimes and it seems like you always assume the worst when it comes to context, but the fact of the matter is that I like you. Enough to want to kiss your face and stick around the next day to drive you up the wall with it. Has it seriously not clicked with you yet? Pesterchum? The club? Tonight? Yeah, my life is constantly moving and shifting, but I’ve carved out a little spot for you, so that should say enough on its own.”

There’s a sudden lump in your throat that has you swallowing dryly. You can’t bring yourself to look at his face anymore because it has your stomach churning with butterflies. You open your mouth to speak, but there are no words, only the barely noticeable tremble of your lips. How does he do this? How can he always take the words right out of your mouth and leave you desperate for something to say? It’s infuriating and annoying and-

Oh.

He’s kissing you.

He’s really kissing you, hard but slow and possessively. His fingers have tangled their way into your hair and he’s stealing the air out of your lungs with this kiss. He’s pulling you forward by the grip he has on your hair, forcing your chests to meet, for every inch of your body leading down to your hips to align, and it has you inhaling a hungry breath and pressing back desperately.

Dirk all but abandons curling his fingers into your hair in favor of looping his arms under your own and around your back in a hug so tight, it has you almost gasping against his mouth. The familiar wet slide of his tongue on your lips has you parting them graciously and drawing him in for something deeper and far more intimate. The taste of him is sweet on your own tongue, punctuated by the frigid cold of his body, but still somehow finding a way to light a fire in your veins.

The only seconds you have in parting is enough time for you to whisper his name wetly against his lips, only for him to draw you back in with a bite to your mouth and the dangerous slide of his fangs against your skin. You realize that you must be making some borderline obscene noises, mostly because you’re suddenly reminded that it’s past midnight and the two of you are standing in the middle of your deathly silent neighborhood making out like it’s your last night on earth or something.

You pull away from him, heat dying your face a deep shade of red, though the biting cold probably has a hand in that as well. For a moment, all you can do is cling onto him, your fingers refusing to unfurl themselves from his blood-stained jacket. The katana he’d been carrying earlier is hanging loosely from a strap looped around his torso, the icy hilt of it occasionally brushing against your hand.

As always, Dirk is the first to break the silence. “Convinced yet?”

There’s no argument on your part. Of course, that tiny little well of self-doubt is still lingering deep inside you, but there’s nothing you can say to deny what just happened. You nod your head slowly, almost dazed in the way you move.

“Good. Ready to head back to your house now?”

You nod your head again, voice refusing to work at this moment in time.

He seems to understand that your vocal facilities aren’t running up to par at the moment, and simply takes your hand in his own. The smooth leather of his fingerless gloves gains your attention, and you just now realize that he’d been wearing them. Foggily, you decided that it’s a look becoming of Dirk and it somehow just fits him to a tee.

The last few dozen feet between there and your house take no time to traverse, and sooner than you’d like, he’s scaling the side of your house effortlessly and depositing you back on your balcony. The trip up is, decidedly, less scarier than the trip down.

Dirk taps your cheek with his fingers, trying to gain your attention. “You okay? You haven’t said anything.”

You falter a bit, but somehow manage to dig up your voice from whatever cave it was hiding in. “Just peachy.”

“Well, at least you can talk. I was worried for a bit there.” His tone is lighter, more playful.

You laugh, albeit shakily. “I don’t know why that keeps happening. I’m usually much better versed than that.”

“Maybe my kisses are just too much for you to handle.” There’s the unavoidable teasing that you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. “Gotta build up that resistance to Strider kisses. Start giving you those daily doses so eventually it won’t leave you borderline comatose.”

At that, you do manage to scoff a bit. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I’m goddamned amazing, is what I am.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dirk Strider. Speaking of sleep, I’m sorely lacking some right now.” As much as you don’t want to say goodbye, you’re not sure you feel entirely comfortable inviting him inside. Amazing kisses and angsty talks aside, Dirk still has a bit to go before all-night privileges become available to him. “I guess I’ll see you sometime soon?”

“Is tomorrow soon enough? Or is that trudging into pushy-boyfriend territory?” He crosses his arms and leans against the railing of your balcony.

“I think the more important question is if you just called yourself my boyfriend?” For once, you manage to throw him for a loop. It’s only for a brief second, but you see his facade falter in place of speechlessness.

He’s quick to recover as expected. “I don’t know. That’s a really weird word to me, you know? Let’s just roll with whatever we have right now and leave the labels for later. See you soon, English. Try to get some shut eye.”

He saunters forward quickly, catches you in a kiss that’s both too quick to be avoided and too short for you to properly enjoy, and then he’s hopping over the balcony once more and vanishing in a blur too fast for your eyes to follow.

When you step back into the welcoming heat of your room, you can’t help but laugh. It’s quiet and breathy and almost borderline hysteric, but it makes you feel good. You collapse on your bed, still laughing, until it dissolves into pathetic breathy noises.

If you were in deep water before, this is officially trench territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My Tumblr:** http://destineytots.tumblr.com


	10. Anomaly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John discovers some boundaries, and Jake has his first real encounter with a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As said before, updates are coming a lot slower than usual, but they're still on the way. I feel like I could have made this chapter better in terms of character interactions, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer.

**== > Be John**

You’re pretty sure there’s supposed to be some kind of Valentine’s Day tradition, something along the lines of cheap chocolate, roses that will wither within three days time, and a whole lot of heavy petting and sex-charged makeouts. At least, that’s what society seems to pressure everyone into.

To be perfectly honest, you don’t have any prior experience with this kind of thing. Sure, you’ve had the occasional girlfriend through high school, but it was never serious. Not as serious as they wanted, which is usually why most of those relationships were short-lived. The times you did happen to have one during the whole Valentine’s Day fiasco, you usually got them the run-of-the-mill heart-shaped candy box, with a bouquet of flowers typically supplied by Jade since she apparently knew the symbolism behind them and what was supposed to be “romantic”.

This...this however, is like latin to you. Prior girlfriends received short-lived makeout sessions that were more often than not regrettably awkward. There was the occasional groping involved and maybe some fooling under the covers that usually led to either quick and clumsy orgasms or a halt in activity altogether depending on the variables present, such as your dad warily roaming the second floor of the house.

You swear he was capable of hearing a pin drop in the next room and you were not going to get caught with your pants down by your dad. Literally.

However, said dad is gone to work today and won’t be home until 6PM and you’re currently cozied up to one Dave Strider. By cozied up, you mean pressed flush against him with his tongue sliding past your lips and his hands trailing under your shirt and up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their cold wake. All the while, you’re laying across the side of your bed with him pulled between your legs while your television drones on in the background.

When he’d shown up at your house today, it was with a half-eaten box of chocolates in a parody of every Valentine’s Day tradition you’ve ever seen. His excuse was that he’d been eyeing them damn thing for the entirety of the trip over and couldn’t help himself. You thought it was funny and kind of endearing in way that fit Dave to a tee. You’re not big on sweets anyway, so he gladly finished off the rest of the box without much pause. His appetite never fails to impress you. You sometimes wonder how high his metabolism must be.

Looking back on things, you’re not sure how you ended up in your room so fast. You briefly remember a hug, a kiss, a lewd whisper from Dave, and then the stairs disappearing under your feet faster than what is considered safe.

While these thoughts are crossing your mind, Dave’s mouth is hungrily trailing a wet path down your neck and across the expanse of your collarbones, and you’re sure your skin is going to be peppered with occasional patches of black and blue after he’s done with you. He always seems to go hard on your neck and there are times when you fear that his teeth might actually pierce your skin. But you get so lost in the moment that the worry is often swept under the rug in favor of how nice that borderline painful pleasure can be.

Admittedly, things are moving a bit faster than you thought they would. You’ll be the first to admit that your relationship with Dave - both in terms of friendship and romance - has progressed and evolved faster than any of your other relationships. You’ve only known Dave for two and a half months, and even now you wonder how it was so easy to warm up to him, to feel comfortable enough for him to visit you constantly, to accompany you on trips, to fall for him so quick and hard. For a brief moment, the concept of soulmates crosses your mind, but you quickly chase it away, deeming that to be a mix of both cheesy and unrealistic.

Even you can understand that love at first sight is a ridiculous concept, and yet...you can’t help but wonder and entertain the thought occasionally.

It’s only when you feel Dave press the palm of his hand against your crotch that you’re broken out of your reverie with a gasp and an attempt to squeeze your legs together - to no avail. You just end up squeezing Dave closer to you and wedging his hand between the two of you. Up until this moment, it’s been nothing but kisses and mostly innocent fondling, but not this. Not his hand rubbing against your slowly hardening dick, making you squirm against the thick comforter of your bed and whimper.

A wave of anxiety creeps up on you and has you breaking out into a small sweat. The hand teasing you to hardness isn’t helping matters any. Everything is suddenly too hot and your immersion in the moment is being broken because, oh god, you’re not ready for that yet.

You’ve only been together for a week and a half, for crying out loud.

Yet, something inside you is forbidding you to speak up. Some kind of reluctance to ruin the moment, to push Dave away and make yourself seem timid or inexperienced - which you most definitely are not. It’s just...you’ve never been intimate with a guy like this before, and while everything is aligned to make it much easier than fooling around with a girl, it’s still new to you, and new things tend to make you nervous all around. Especially when you feel like you can’t hold a candle to how confident Dave is in these types of situations.

So you swallow hard and try not to seem bothered, but it isn’t long before Dave is stopping and staring at you with a frown that has you burning with shame. You turn your head to the side, unable to look at him, even with his shades still on. He was so into it, and you feel awful for ruining the moment.

“Hey John, you okay?” Your face is hot and your mouth is suddenly dry. What are you supposed to say? _‘Oh sorry, I got cold feet’_? So you remain silent and hope that Dave will just drop the issue. But you’re kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place (and that could be a pun about dicks, but let’s not think about that right now) and there’s really no avoiding the current problem at hand. Dave seems to agree. He relaxes his position so that he’s more or less draped over you now and not wedged firmly between your legs.

He frames your face with his hands and gently nudges your head back so that you’re facing him once more. “Hey. Hey. What’s wrong, man?” You pitifully shake your head. He doesn’t buy it. “Nah, something’s wrong. Can’t hide it from me, Eg-dork. So spill.”  
Despite how tense and reluctant you are to budge, the play on your name manages to wring a choked laugh out of you. Goddamn it, Dave.

You purse your lips and try to avoid his question again, but Dave seems content to wait all evening if that’s what it takes to get you to talk. He’s a solid, cold weight holding you down, and you’re not about to risk hypothermia just because Dave is so freakishly freezing all the time.

“I’m a patient guy, John. I don’t know if you know this, but my bro and I have some of the most intense staring contests. One time, I’m pretty sure we went for a solid hour before one of us broke eye contact. The heavyweight unflinching motherfucking champions of the world, I tell you. I’m pretty sure that if either of us entered a poker tournament, we’d be bringing all the spoils home. I’m actually not too sure why we haven’t tried that yet. I’m probably underage or something, but I’m pretty sure bro could do it. Guy’s a stone cold killer, man. Sometimes not even I can tell what he’s thinking. And I’ve lived with the asshole for my entire life. Literally, probably the only person who can actually glare me into submission. I remember once when I was a kid, I got involved with a bad group of guys, and when my bro found out, he was so pissed that I’m pretty sure his eyes could have burned holes through-”

“Dave...”

“-sheet metal. And listen, I don’t cry alright? But I was fucking crying because I knew I was in some deep shit. You’ve never seen it, but Dirk is kind of fucking terrifying when he’s pissed. Dude wouldn’t hurt me for anything in the world, but still, you see him like that, and you fear for your fucking life because someone’s ass is gonna get beat. It wasn’t me, but we left that day with a literal pile of bodies behind us, and I mean literal, like they were stacked on top of each other and I’m pretty sure one of the guys didn’t have a set of teeth anymore, but-”

“Dave.”

“-you can guaran-fucking-tee that I had a healthy respect for rules after that because I was scarred for life. I think I went full-on Mormon mode after that. Like, complete with church and everything because there was no way in hell I was gonna be caught doing stupid shit like that again. It was probably a good four or five months before Dirk decided that the hole he was burning into my back with his eyes was deep enough. Pretty sure it took me another two to three years after that to-”

“Dave!”

“-completely recov-... Oh. You say something, John?” Dave has made himself comfortable on you since he began his rant, lying on you like your body is a chaise lounge, complete with him resting his cheek on his hand. “Finally ready to talk, huh?”

What a smug jerk. He had a plan to make you talk, and it apparently revolved round him rambling endlessly until your patience ran out. It worked like a charm. So you roll your eyes at him to let him know that you’re not too happy about it, but decide to comply regardless.

...Which is easier said than done, because you’re still not sure how to tell your boyfriend that you’re not ready to touch dicks yet. So you go for something elegant, yet simple. “I can’t do this.” Bingo. Beautiful. The judges are holding up straight tens for how well put together that admittance was.

Dave’s reaction is...nonexistent. The expression on his face doesn’t change at all. He continues to stare at you like he’s still waiting for your response. When it’s clear that you don’t have anything else to add, he just kind of makes a confused motion with his free hand. “Just that? Really?”

“Uhh…” Well, this is unexpected. Not like you were expecting Dave to flip out or anything, but you’re sure he was going to be somewhat disappointed. “Yes. Yeah. Just. Just that.”

Dave’s lips quirk in a thoughtful way. “Neat. Alright, that’s cool. You wanna continue our playthrough of Dark Souls or are we not feeling up to video game rage today?”

Just like that, he drops it. No disappointed sighs or groans or encouraging words on his part to make you continue. Just...plain acceptance. The guy was one-hundred percent into the whole sexy times thing, and now he just wants to chill and play video games.

Holy shit, you love him.

“Sure? Um, should we…?” You motion to both Dave and yourself in a way that you hope he understands. He does, and he quickly pulls himself off of you so you can raise up as well. Though you didn’t want to let your eyes wander, you do see that he’s still half-mast and your cheeks burn with chagrin. Dave doesn’t seem to mind at all, and he helps you off the bed with a gentle tug of his hand on yours.

He does, however, pull you in for a kiss before you can get your bearings on the floor. Then he’s pressing his lips against your temple and hugging you, his cool hand carding through your hair appreciatively. “Listen. If you’re not comfortable with something, just speak up, man. I’d feel a lot worse knowing I pressured you into something over feeling a little ‘ehh’ just because I didn’t get some dick, you know?”

Despite his words and how quick and painless that resolution was, your gut still twists with unease and guilt. Because you feel like you should have been ready, you should have reciprocated like any other hormone ridden teenage boy quickly approaching full adulthood. So all you can do is mumble into his shoulder pathetically. “You were so into it, though.”

“But you weren’t.”

You shrug in his grasp. “Doesn’t really matter.”

At that, Dave is pushing you back so he can properly look at you and you swear he appears almost incredulous. “Except it does? That’s a consent issue, dude. You don’t just...do something because you like it and the other person doesn’t. I mean...that’s kind of fucked. You gotta both want it.”

Under all that minute shock, you think you can hear conflict in Dave’s words. Like there’s something bothering him, but you can’t put your finger on it.

You decide to ignore it and roll with what he’s saying. “Yeah. I. Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just. Ugh… Why does everything look so easy when other people do it, but then it comes my turn and suddenly I’m Eminem in 8 Mile and I have mom’s spaghetti all over sweater?”

Dave freezes. Legitimately, he goes stock still to the point where you wonder if he’s even breathing anymore.

Then he’s laughing. Full-out, gut wrenchingly funny laughing. Chortling even. He can’t breathe. You’re worried for a moment. He’s actually wiping away tears and all you can do is stand there and watch him laugh, because you’ve never seen him laugh so hard before. It’s kind of amazing, to be perfectly honest.

When he finally begins to get his bearings together again, he’s patting your back gently and speaking in a breathy voice. “Holy shit, John. Give me some fucking warning next time before you say something like that, because I was not ready, lemme tell you.”

At that, you can’t help but smile. Unintentionally funny or not, you won’t let credit for a good joke pass you by. “Well, you know. The comedian lifestyle is a recurring theme in my family. If you think that was funny, you should have been around for my grandpa when he was still alive. I think dad actually has his jokebook stored around here somewhere. We should look at it sometime.”

Dave is steering you out of the room by the time you finish your sentence. “I dunno, man. That was like current generation, brewed on the spot kind of stuff. That’s the kind of shit that just happens and can’t be premeditated. You ever think of taking up improv comedy?”

“Hmm. I might have considered it if I hadn’t told dad that I was already planning on becoming a pharmacist. You think he’d be too disappointed with me if I told him I was dropping all my life aspirations to become a comedian?”

The two of you reach the bottom of the stairs and round the corner that leads into the living room, where all your prized game consoles lay. “Listen. I will fund your comedy career. I don’t give a shit. I will milk the fuck outta Dirk’s bank account if I get to hear more material like that.”

By the time you’ve both settled down and loaded up the last save of Dark Souls, the flop in the bedroom is long forgotten - pushed to the back of your mind by Dave’s banter.

* * *

  **== > Be Dave**

You’re a hypocrite and you have no place preaching about consent.

Your entire life is built upon taking advantage of others. For the first time in centuries, you’re actually a little disgusted with yourself.

The faces of your past lovers haunt you for the rest of your visit and not even John’s laughter can distract you from them. Worse yet, that desire continues to burn fresh in your veins and you still almost salivate at the prospect of feeding from him.

When did being a demon become so hard for you?

(About three months ago, you tell yourself reluctantly.)

* * *

  **== > Be Jake**

For what feels like the fiftieth time since you’ve arrived in this store, you look down at the list Jade had given you, scanning for any items you may have overlooked.

Everything seems to be crossed off, but you double-check, glancing between the list and the basket of items you’re toting on your other arm. Bread, check. Juice, check. Those little gummy candies that Jade loves, check. As you go down the list, everything appears to be in order, so you stuff it away in your pocket and shift your weight a little.

You sigh and wait for the line to the register to dwindle, moving forward a bit every time someone else finishes checking out. The store’s internal temperature rivals the cold of the outside and all you can do is think about the warmth of your house as your skin tries to fight off goosebumps.

Gosh-darned cold and rain and snow. You miss the sun and want it to be summer already.

Your phone is a heavy weight in your pocket and you contemplate texting Dirk to pass the time, but trying to text with a basket full of food in one arm seems a bit too troublesome. By the time you reach the counter, have bagged your items, paid, and left the store, your teeth are almost chattering from how cold you are. Even the tips of your fingers are beginning to go numb, and you’re starting to regret not listening to Jade about putting a pair of gloves on.

Despite the street being almost desolate, save for a few passing vehicles, you’re not about to break the law just because you’re in a hurry to cross the road and get back to your vehicle. So you wait for the crosswalk sign to light up and watch the almost setting sun in the distance with weary eyes.

That’s okay, you decide. If you had it your way, you wouldn’t be out today either. You understand why no one is around in this freezing weather. If it weren’t for Jade, you’d be buried underneath a pile of blankets, camped out on your couch with a movie on and Dirk’s familiar orange text lighting up your phone.

As you stand there and ponder about what to do once you get home, with your thoughts lingering on perhaps finally cleaning your guns, you catch the sound of what appears to be a woman struggling. For a moment, you pass it off as some frustration on her part, probably something to do with the piles of leftover snow and slush lying in the street. You’d had some trouble navigating your way over to the store without slipping and falling flat on your ass.

But when those noises take on a desperate tone and rise in volume, your gut goes cold and you realize suddenly that something isn’t quite right. You’re immediately alert, listening carefully for where those sounds are coming from. Glancing around, you realize that you really are almost entirely alone on this street and that no one else is going to investigate what’s going on.

When you realize that it’s coming from across the street and near an alcove resting between two buildings near the parking lot, your legs are carrying you before your mind can catch up. The crosswalk light has yet to change from red to green, but there are no oncoming cars in your line of sight. You doubt you’d care either way, because from the sounds of it, this woman is in trouble and if you don’t get there in time, things could turn sour.

So you run and you let your ears lead you. You disappear into the shade wedged between the two buildings and the temperature drops drastically from the lack of light. Your feet lead you into a well hidden alleyway, and when the sound is right around the corner from where you’re standing, you suddenly stop, and decide that maybe you should look first before barging into what could possibly be a dangerous situation. Your lack of forethought and introspection has landed you in hot water before, and for once, you’re not going to let your foolhardy heroism get yourself or anyone else hurt.

So you peer around the corner stealthily, and the sight greeting you has your skin turning hot with anger and righteousness.

You’re just about to pounce when you notice a few unsettling details.

The woman whimpering and trying to fight back is pressed against the building, with her hands bound above her head. But her assailant has his other hand dug into her thigh and his teeth are bared at her in a sickening fashion.

What gets you is the inhumane features blatantly put on display - sharp, shark-like teeth and claws that look like they’d be more fitting on an eagle than a human. Upon further inspection, the woman’s clothing appears to be shredded in various places, mostly notably around her legs and chest. Splotches of blood are bleeding freely from the claw marks imbedded in her skin, and her desperate pleas only seem to encourage the monster slowly tearing away at her. A murky, foreboding black aura swarms around the perpetrator

You hear him make a disgusting comment about her screams, and your stomach churns with both fury and disgust.

You want to fight him. You want to knock this bastard’s jagged teeth down his throat. But…

But you’re just human. And this is obviously a demon of some sorts. You’re not strong enough to do this on your own. You punched a demon square in the face once, and his only reaction was to look at you and say he deserved it, with no signs of it having hurt at all.

So you do the one thing you think is viable and you quickly shoot a text to Dirk begging him to come to your current location. You try your best to relay your whereabouts to him, giving the supermarket as a waypoint. Before you can wait for him to reply, the sound of the woman hissing in pain has you stuffing your phone away and peering around the corner again.

The demon has rucked her leg up around his thigh and his clawed fingers are quite literally tearing away at her clothes. She’s trying with all her might to fight back, to claw at him and bite at every limb that comes near. But she can’t break out of his hold and her efforts only seem to amuse him.

That’s it. You can’t wait. You can’t just sit here and watch this happen. Fear and mortality be damned, you’ll die trying to save this poor woman before you stand by and watch her get defiled.

With as much confidence as you can muster, you drop the bag of groceries you’d been toting and pop out of the cover of the wall to yell at the demon, “Hey asshole! Why not try your hand against me before unfairly assaulting a woman!”

The demon turns to you with a sneer, regarding you with eyes that you swear are almost entirely black. Now that you can see him better, you decide that’s he’s sorely unremarkable, even below average in terms of appearance. Nothing like the demons Dirk had introduced you to at the club.

Even you can deduce that he must be low on the hierarchy and it probably wouldn’t have been long until he was added onto Dirk’s list of trash to take out. Well, the joke's on Dirk, because you’re going to be doing him a favor. Human frailness aside, you’ll find a way to get the job done one way or another.

You do the first thing that comes to mind, and charge at the demon. You probably would have been better off trying to surprise him, but at least his attention seems to be off the woman and on you now.

When he sees you barrelling at him, he steps away from the lady he had pinned against the building, and she crumples down at his feet, holding and nursing her wounds as best as she can. That’s all you really needed to happen, so now it’s just a game of trying not to die. Which is easier said than done.

As you expected, he easily dodges out of the way, but you were prepared for this. You bring yourself to a stop right before the woman and quickly crouch down to her level. Your voice is rushed and urgent as you whisper to her, “Go! Go, quickly! I’ll handle this!” As fast as you can, and without hurting her too much, you usher her to her feet and steer her towards the alley’s exit.

The demon seems to not agree with the turn of events and tries to cut her off before she can round the corner, but you’re quickly rushing at him again and snaking your arm around his head to dig your forearm into his throat in what you hope is an effective chokehold. He curses aloud and thrashes a bit in an effort to swing you off, but you don’t relent in the slightest until you see her disappear from the alley.

However, it doesn’t take long for him to sling you over his shoulder and onto the ground. He’s positively seething now, hissing through his teeth and snarling at you like some wild, rabid animal. His foot raises up over your head, and you know he has every intention to smash your skull like a glorified pumpkin. You manage to roll out of the way at the last second, and then you’re scampering to your feet as fast as you can.

When you’re eye to eye with the demon again, the two of you are stuck in a standoff, bodies deathly still and muscles taut with tension. Your jacket and pants are wet with slush and snow, and your skin tingles with how cold it suddenly is, but you barely notice in the thick of things. The demon seems to lack all the calm and finesse you’ve known Dirk for, opting to spit and sling verbal insults and threats at you while you wait for him to make a move. His face contorts with his rage in unappealing ways, and for the first time since you immersed yourself in their world over a month ago, you finally see some semblance of the demons your grandfather warned you about.

When it’s his turn to rush you, his movement speed is faster than what you can anticipate. Not quite the blurring wonder that is Dirk or his brother, but still too fast for you to formulate a proper counterattack. Instead of punching you, he swipes with his hands, catching your shoulder and cheek with the tips of his claws. Luckily, the cuts left behind on your cheek are shallow, but the mark he left on your shoulder burns greatly and you can feel warmth spreading over the afflicted area.

You suck in a breath tinged with pain and backstep before the next two swings can catch you. But you know for a fact that the wounds left upon your shoulder are going to inhibit some of that arm’s strength. Even now, it hurts to move it just barely. The monster still growling at you mindlessly prepares to rush again, so you do the only thing you think you can do to defend yourself.

You block yourself with your arms, holding them in front of you to absorb most of the impact. Unfortunately, it also results in you toppling over, your top half becoming too heavy with the demon’s weight. Even though you expected it, you arms are now marred with slashes of their own, and the burn is no less awful.

When your back hits the ground and the demon is settled firmly on top of you, all you can do is grab at his arms to try and hold him back, try to keep him from slitting your throat with those razor sharp claws. And boy, does he try. He pushes forward with everything he has and gains on you centimeter by centimeter. The muscles in your arms are straining as hard as they can, trying to push back this seemingly ironbound monster. The second you relent is the moment your life ends.

And then, as if something has finally clicked in his mind, he’s pushing less with his arms and leaning forward, his head dipping towards your neck. When you realize what he’s going after, you manage to push your shoulder up enough so that his jagged teeth sink down into it instead of your jugular. Unlike Dirk’s own bite, it hurts something fierce, and you can’t hold back the pained noises that rips its way out of your throat.

Even worse, the demon begins to rend at your shoulder, tugging his head every which way in an attempt to tear flesh and muscle. The pain makes your body run both hot and cold at the same time, and your focus on the situation wanes more and more in conjunction with the teeth tearing away at you.

As your mind begins to go fuzzy from pain, you buck and twist and try your damndest to throw him from your shoulder, but he’s like a wild dog, his mouth clamped down securely on your shoulder with no intention of releasing you until you stop moving.

A strange sort of numbness begins to settle over you, and you distantly realize that you must be going into some sort of shock to cope with what’s happening to you right now. As if it has a mind of its own, your body continues to fight back, your arms refusing to give way, but your mental capacities aren’t working up to par. The only thought that has clarity in your mind is what Dirk is going to find when he finally arrives.

You have to hold out, just a bit longer. Just...a bit...longer…

But the pain is so severe, even if you can no longer tell, and the lack of cognition is affecting your will to try. You know you don’t want to die. No, you don’t want to die...not yet. Not when things were just beginning to get so good.

The collar of your jacket is quickly becoming damp with blood, and the steady oozing of your wounds has your breaths turning shallow and quick. Bit by bit, your vision begins to blur, the peripherals of your sight turning dark and inky.

Your eyes close of their own accord, and it feels as though consciousness might have just left you. Distantly, you can still hear the demon rending away at you, but it’s as though you’re underwater and your ears are clogged. The burn of adrenaline in your veins is muted, but still there, still willing your body to fight on, even if your mind can’t keep up.

But it would much easier to just lie here and sleep, to give into the darkness beckoning you to give up and relax. The woman is safe, your job is done. If you die now, you don’t think you’d have any qualms with it. A heroic death is the way to go out, you surmise. Though you feel like you might be forgetting something important, you decide to give into that comfortable black and let yourself fall under its protective blanket.

…

You hear someone calling your name. You know that voice.

They sound so worried, so desperate.

No. No, you don’t want them to be.

You know that you don’t want them to be disappointed. You don’t want them to be sad. Not over you. Not like this. No.

**You are suddenly filled with that same, righteous fury again.**

When you open your eyes, it’s with a snarl of your own. A growl punctuated with a building heat in your limbs, all convening into the palm of your hands. The demon trying to tear a chunk out of you rears back with a sharp hiss, clawed hands abandoning their efforts against you to shield his eyes from something.

You take the opening and press the palms of your hands against his sternum. Then you take that swirling heat you felt building up in your hands and you _push_.

A scream rips from him and he flies off of you, tumbling several feet away and writhing around in the slush on the ground. You manage to raise up enough to see him clawing at his jacket and shirt, as if there’s something underneath it. When he all but tears his clothing off of him, you see what’s making him fly into a panic.

His skin looks as though it’s been turned to ash, flaking off in parts and cracking in others. His face is scrunched up in a way that conveys his fear and pain clearly, and you feel a bit of satisfaction at that.

“What the fuck did you just do to me!?” He shrieks, though his voice is gritty and hoarse with pain. Then his panicked eyes are on you. That’s when you see his jaw drop, and his eyes go wide, as if he’s just seen a ghost or something. He actually scrambles back a bit, shuffling as best as he can with the massive burn marring his chest. Then his eyes are moving past you to a spot you can’t see.

You don’t know what just happened, but you’re damn glad it did.

With a bit of relief, you let yourself relax back onto the ground, breathing a bit funky and wounds stinging unpleasantly as your head swims with blood loss.

The sound of footsteps approaching has you opening your eyes again to look up at the figure crouching over you. The first thing you notice is the platinum blonde hair. The next thing is the pointed shades on his face.

The third and fourth things are the burning of his orange eyes through said shades and the angry coiling of his orange aura, like a whip waiting to lash out.

His voice is low and barely contained when he speaks to you. “Jake, are you alright?”

You see more than feel his fingers checking your wounds. Relief is mostly what you’re feeling now. “S’all tip-top on my end… I feel like a nap is in order, though.” You laugh a bit, but the shaking of your chest has your wounds burning more. “Owww…”

Dirk nods, but his attention seems to shift from you to the demon that is still trying to nurse its mysterious wound on the ground. With measured movements and a patience that screams scary more than controlled, he stands up from his crouched position and slowly walks his way over.

Despite the bit of loopiness still plaguing you, you know to keep your head down this time and opt to listen instead of watch.

You hear the demon make a noise of recognition, and then he’s immediately pleading for his life.

The wet sound of a blade being brought down upon his neck has your skin crawling with unease. Two thumps follow afterwards and you deduce what both of them are: his head, and then his body.

And then Dirk is once again by your side and framing your face with his hands. He’s actually pushed his shades up on his head so that his tangerine eyes lay bare to you and you can clearly see the worry in them. You raise your hand up weakly and make a dismissive motion at him. “Why’re you staring at me like that? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He says sternly. “What happened? Wait, nevermind. Tell me later. Let’s get you out of here.” He slides his hand under your back and helps you sit up, which hurts a fuck ton and has you hissing out a few expletives of your own. You didn’t realize how deep the wounds to your shoulders were, but you can definitely feel it now. Especially the bite mark on your right shoulder.

Dirk helps you to your feet wobbily, his arm slung around your waist and his other hand mindful of the wounds on your body. He wipes a bit at the blood staining your cheek from the claw marks there and you spare him a sheepish smile. Out of nowhere, a thought occurs to you.

“Wait, Dirk, hold on for a moment. Where are my...where are my groceries?” You glance around the alleyway and spot a crumpled back of what can only be ruined bread and soaked cardboard now. “Aw, no. No, that’s...no, please. I don’t want to have to do this again-”

He seems to catch onto what you’re fretting about and scoffs impatiently. “Fuck the groceries. I don’t know what kind of priorities you have in order right now, but mine include getting you back to my apartment so I can stitch you up.”

You groan a bit. “Can’t you just take me to the hospital like any other normal person?”

“And what are you going to tell them when they ask for details to write down on your report?” He’s walking briskly with you in tow towards the parking lot.

“That I was mugged or something? I’m sure they won’t question me too much. I can make something up on the spot!” You protest weakly, but to be honest, you’re much too tired to put up a real argument.

“Sure. Make up something for the obvious claw marks. Or how about the row of teeth marks? I heard that Washington has a bad problem with bears this time of year.” You want to remark that bears are in hibernation right now before realizing that you’d just be proving his point. So you grumble about nothing in particular and let him lead you back to the parking lot.

You direct Dirk to where you’re parked and he spends no time reaching into your back pocket and retrieving your keys. For some reason, you get a weird sense of deja vu, like this has happened before, but you shake the thought from your head and allow him to open the door for you.

He quickly takes up the driver seat and has the vehicle on and moving before any more words can be exchanged. You turn the heat on with shaky hands and relax into the seat as your chilled body warms up. You hadn’t realized how cold you’d been. The blood loss probably wasn’t helping matters any.

By the time you make it back to the apartment complex, you’re relatively comfortable despite the damage done to your body and the bleeding has stemmed a bit. Turns out that the wounds were too far away from anything vital to really garner any serious bleeding, which is good for you because you’re not sure you can handle Dirk breaking the speed limit times four right now.

When he goes to help you out of the vehicle, you want to protest that this is going to look strange to any onlookers, but the area outside the apartment complex is clear of people, so you let the words die in your throat.

Dirk helps you through the lobby and towards the elevator, shielding most of what people might be able to see on you with his body. It’s only when you’re walking down the hallway to his apartment that he finally speaks to you.

“I just remembered that today is Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh.” The word sounds hollow to you. You’re surprised, yes, but you can’t really afford to show it at the moment. “Me too, actually.”

“Here I was bringing it up a few days ago. And I completely forgot to do anything today.” His lips tug into what appears to be a smirk.

He lets you lean against the wall while he unlocks the door. When you finally manage to get inside the apartment, you’re suddenly very thankful that couches exist and you immediately collapse onto the nearest one, ignoring how the sudden movement pulls at your marred skin or how little droplets of blood stain the light material.

Dirk disappears into another room while you rest. It dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve ever been in his home. The thought that Dave could be here crosses your mind, but when you look around, you don’t see any sign of him. You do, however, notice the gratuitous amount of music equipment and weapon displays.

When Dirk returns, it’s with a first aid kit in tow and a small bowl of warm water. “This is going to sound weird for the situation on hand, but I need you to strip. Shirt off.”

You manage a small laugh at that, opting to fire back something witty, but wince when you try to remove your shirt. So instead, you opt for asking him awkwardly, “I, uh...might need some help with that.”

He makes an amused sound, and gently helps you peel off your damp clothing, his fingers careful not to brush your wounds or otherwise. When he settles back to look at you again, his eyebrows pinch together in worry. You turn your head and follow his eyes to the wound on your shoulder, and yeah. It looks pretty awful. The skin has been torn messily and dark bruises are blooming over the wound. Blood still seeps lazily from it, and a trail of skin underneath the bite is stained pink and red with dried blood.

Dirk continues to eye it, and you swear you can see some sort of underlying emotion there, barely contained under the surface of his seemingly calm facade. In fact, he looks almost irritated, like the bite is offending to look at. You can’t help but flush under his scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

That seems to break him out of his reverie. “Nothing. It’s just. Nothing. Stupid shit.” He sets to dipping a piece of cloth in the water, taking care to wring it out so it’s no dripping everywhere.

“Can’t be too stupid if it’s bothering you, mate.” You add, but you don’t push. Dirk is quiet as he begins cleaning the blood away from your skin.

“You’d probably think it was weird if I told you.” When he begins to take the cloth over your wound, you try your best not to make any noise or show signs of discomfort. But it’s hard considering how open it is. Dirk seems to notice and hastens his cleaning to try and spare you any further pain.

“I think we’ve passed the threshold of weird here. So please, gab. I won’t mind.” Dirk switches to your other shoulder as you speak, and it hurts considerably less than the other.

“It’s just. I mean.” He pauses, seemingly trying to piece together his thoughts. By the time he speaks, he’s already finished with your forearms and started on your cheek. “I don’t like seeing that on you.” He motions to the now clean set of teeth marks that are still bubbling a bit with red. “It doesn’t sit well with me. Pisses me right the fuck off, to be honest.”

That has you raising an eyebrow. “What, the bite? If memory serves me correct, I recall you leaving a similar mark on me when we first met.” Surprisingly, it’s not awkward to bring that up now, whereas it used to make your face burn with shame.

“I wouldn’t do this much damage to y- Ugh, nevermind.” Dirk drapes the bloodstained cloth over the rim of the bowl in favor of retrieving some antiseptics from the first aid kit. As he’s pouring some on the cotton balls, he continues. “I just don’t like the thought of someone feeding from you. Even if that wasn’t the goal or they’re not even that kind of demon, which that asshole wasn’t, just knowing they sunk their teeth into you. Doesn’t make me happy.”

You realize what he’s implying. “Is this a...territorial sort of thing or?”

Dirk dips his head a bit bashfully. “Kind of. I mean. Fuck, who knows.”

“Ah.” Well, that definitely puts things in a different light. As Dirk dabs your wounds with the antiseptic - and holy shit, does it burn like hell - you contemplate what to say to that. “Is this. Is this hard for you?”

Dirk peers up from his work. Somewhere between arriving here and disappearing into another room, he’d abandoned his shades entirely. It’s still hard for you to get used to seeing him without them. “How so?”

You go to shrug, but stop beforehand to spare yourself further pain. “The blood, I mean. Is it...tempting in the least?” Oh goodness, that sounds suggestive to your own ears. You dread to see how Dirk receives it.

However, his reply is straightforward and honest. “Yeah. Not gonna lie, but yeah. Even when I arrived and all that shit was going down, there was still a lot of temptation there. But it’s not like I can’t control myself or anything. I’m not a wild animal. It’s just like. You ever have intrusive thoughts? Shit that makes you want to do a double take at yourself because holy shit, no, that is wrong and you shouldn’t think that? That’s kind of what it’s like.”

“I see.” You really do. When he puts it that way, it makes a bit more sense to you. “I couldn’t tell, if it helps any. You seem totally in control of yourself.”

“Of course I am. I’m only a few centuries old, English. Not some newborn kid. I conquered that problem a long time ago.” As he’s finishing up with the disinfectant, he suddenly pauses and goes completely still. He doesn’t seem to appear shocked, but rather as if he’s suddenly remembered something. Then he’s back to treating your wounds. “Tell me something. Can you remember anything that happened back there before I arrived? During the fight?”

You try to recall the confrontation in your mind, and find that you can only remember a few seconds and flashes from it. It’s like an unassembled jigsaw puzzle to you. “Bits and pieces, mostly. Why?”

Dirk shakes his head, as if he doesn’t know himself. His voices goes low and quiet. “By all means, you should probably be dead right now. Or a lot more injured than this. But you did something back there, Jake. I don’t know what, but you seriously fucked that guy up before I could. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. You sure you’re not a psychic or something? Hell if I know if psychics can do any of that shit, but it’s all I have to consider right now. You’re obviously not a demon, or otherwise we’re both the most dense motherfuckers on the planet.”

So you were the one that did that back there? The burns on that demon’s chest. Was it you? “I don’t know if that’s entirely possible, Dirk. I mean, I’m just. I’m human. I’ve never done anything like that before. That must have just been some malarkey or something. A trick of the mind or… Gosh, I haven’t the slightest idea. But I know it couldn’t have been me.”

As you ramble on, Dirk tosses aside the cotton balls and disinfectant in favor of the thread and needle - which has you swallowing past a lump in your throat. You’ve never been a fan of needles. “Then tell me, Jake. Who was it? Because it wasn’t me. And I don’t see why that guy would do that to himself. So there’s only one viable option here.”

You sigh and shake your head, at a loss for what to say. “I don’t know, and to be frank, I don’t think I can really explain even if it was me. I hardly remember anything that happened.” All at once, you feel the weight of today’s events hit you, and suddenly you’re feeling so tired. Your body visibly sags with exhaustion as the last bits of adrenaline leave you. You’ll be fine and sore tomorrow, that much you can tell. “I need to call Jade. I need to get home. Just. I’m so exhausted.”

Dirk shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. Tell your sister you’ll be home tomorrow.”

Despite how much you’d love to curl up on this couch and sleep at this very moment, you still try to protest. “Dirk, I can’t do that. My sister is going to be worried sick. What do I even tell her?”

“Tell her the truth. Tell her that the amazing Dirk Strider is going to fix her big brother up and that I’ll have you home tomorrow morning.”

You sigh once more, all the energy seemingly leaving your body. Even now, your eyes are beginning to droop with each passing minute. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think I’m going to make it much longer, Strider.”

“We’ll see how you feel when I start on these stitches.” Dirk holds the needle up, and it glints ominously in the light.

You groan loudly and cover your eyes with the back of your hand. “Please, just. Get it over with. So I can sleep. And let me at least use your phone. I left mine in my vehicle.”

You call Jade using Dirk’s phone, and although she’s worried, she’s infinitely more grateful that you’re alright and, according to her, forever in debt to Dirk. Then she’s angry at you for being so reckless and bullheaded, but in a way that’s still endearing. By the time you’ve calmed her down and reassured her that everything is fine, she’s nearly in tears on the phone. She makes you promise to not do anything like that again, and you give her your word, your voice a bit strained as well.

Dirk, thankfully, doesn’t comment on your sudden emotional state.

True to his word, the stitches do hurt and you wince every time he navigates the needle in and out of your skin. Only the wounds on your shoulders need stitching. Dirk tells you that the claw marks on your cheek might leave behind faint scars, but you’re more than fine with that. Scars, in your opinion, are badass.

By the time he’s done, you can barely keep your eyes open. You faintly hear him putting away all the medical supplies and returning them to their previous spot. As he moves around the apartment, you topple over onto the couch and curl in on yourself, eyes closing immediately and sighing a sigh of relief as you let the day’s tension dissipate from your limbs.

You only open your eyes when you feel Dirk’s hand in your hair, his skin nice and cool against your scalp. You turn slightly from your lying position - he’s sitting on the edge of the couch, with you positioned between him and the back of it - and manage a lazy smile. “Can I help you?”

He scoffs softly. “I’m not the one that needs help.” He stills his hand in favor of scratching lightly at your scalp, which has you breathing out a sigh of contentment. “Do you want to sleep in here or my bed?”

That question has you freezing momentarily. He must feel it because he retracts his hand in favor of placing it lightly on your arm.

“I mean, you can have my bed to yourself. I don’t sleep, remember?”

Oh. You feel a bit silly. It’s not really that you’re opposed to physical closeness when it comes to Dirk. It’s just… Oh, bollocks. You don’t know. You’ll figure it out later.

“Besides, Dave will be coming in this evening and he’s loud as fuck sometimes. Not to mention how much of an annoying little shit he can be when he feels like it.”

You nod sleepily. The thought of sleeping in an actual bed sounds extremely nice right now and you’re not sure you’ll be able to contain your irritation if you get woken up tonight. Then again, you figure you’ll be out like a light once you actually fall asleep.

So you sit up groggily and attempt to stand, which results in you wobbling a bit and nearly falling back down on the couch. But Dirk’s arms are around your waist and he’s pulling you against him. You can’t help but lay your head on his shoulder, exhaustion prompting you to do so. That, and well, maybe you just want to be close to Dirk right now.

Hell, maybe it would be nice to lay in bed with him. Suddenly, the thought seems very appealing.

“Okay, hear me out.” You mumble into his shoulder, shifting your head so that your temple is pressed against it instead of your mouth. “I know you don’t need sleep, but how about you come lie down with me anyway.”

“That’s a pretty bold question coming from you.” You can hear amusement in his voice.

“Well, see, here’s how I see it. I’m obviously a little bonkers from blood loss and exhaustion, so I won’t have to think about this tomorrow. So let’s just go lie down and do this before I suddenly develop some clarity.”

“I feel like I should question whether or not you should be making any decisions right now, but I guess there’s no harm to it.” Dirk’s hand finds its way back to your hair, and oh goodness, you really like being pet. You never realized it before, but it’s really is nice. You press your lips against his neck and hear him sigh softly.

“Take me to bed then.” You mumble against his skin.

“Words I’ve always wanted to hear, but the completely wrong context. You can’t imagine the disappointment I’m experiencing right now.”

It doesn’t take you any time to fall asleep once you’re covered up and comfortable in his bed. You don’t even recall seeing his room, just being led to the bed and collapsing on top of it before Dirk forced you to get under the covers. But you do remember the specific feel of Dirk pressed against you with his arms wound around your waist and his nose pressed against the top of your head.

At one point, you’d even rucked a leg up and over his waist, but you gave it no second thought. Judging by the way his hand had settled on your thigh and the way he tried to press closer to you, he didn’t seem to mind much either. Not that you expected him to.

You sleep like a rock that night.


	11. Indulge Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake discards his restraints. Something may be wrong with Dave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uhh... How's everyone doing? Ok, so I'm gonna skip past the spiel here and say that I'm really sorry for not updating in forever. I won't say that I was busy the entire time, because it was mostly me sitting on my ass and playing video games. Which is ironic, because I'm extremely busy now. And I decide to write. Funny how that works, heh. 
> 
> Thank you ALL for your continued support. I received a lot of messages over the months from people who were concerned over whether or not this fic was discontinued. I am here to say that it is NOT. I am slowly getting some of my writing mojo back. Updates won't be often, but they WILL be here. Again, thank you all for sticking by!

**== > Be Jake**

With the amount of blood you’ve lost, a good night’s sleep free of fretful dreams seemed like a likely outcome, considering how fast your lights were out once Dirk was done patching you up. But, of course, your luck is rotten, and your dreams? Ten times worse.

You wake with a sharp jolt, a gasp for air and an instinctual desire to flail your arms around. Your hands meet soft bedsheets and a solid body, your eyes darting every which way in panic. For a moment, you’re unaware that this isn’t your house, so you’re confused as to why your room suddenly looks much different; cluttered all the same, but with technology and music equipment rather than comics, clothes, and your gun shelf.

A startled noise emanates from right beside you, and a second form jerks upright, platinum blonde hair in disarray and tangerine eyes glazed over with what appears to be haziness, but not exactly fatigue. His voice is thick, not quite up to par, but loud enough to yank you out of your panicked frenzy.

“Jake… Jake! Calm down! Holy shit, stop flailing. You’re going to hit some-” Before the last word can come out, your hand smacks the side of his head and he goes silent, leveling you with a critical stare before continuing on. “-thing...like me.”  
Dirk sighs, catching your flailing arms and holding them down - slowly and gently as to not spook you - before catching your half-awake gaze with his own. You stare into the depths of his bright orange eyes, heart beating away frantically in your chest, threatening to jump from your ribs. He holds your line of sight, his face devoid of any real emotion, and as the seconds tick by, you begin to feel a strange calm overtake you.

His hands come up to frame your face, preventing you from glancing away prematurely. Dirk holds you there, allows your heart to settle down into a somewhat normal rhythm, your blood to flow slower, and the adrenaline to dissipate from your body. By the time he cracks a smirk at you, the sweat that had made its home upon your forehead has all but dried.

And then the pain comes.

“Owwww, owww… Oh, bollocks. That’s right.” You instinctively go to rub at your aching shoulder, but Dirk is there again to stop you, though he chooses to bat your hands away this time.

“No touching those stitches, bro. Those things won’t be coming out for at least a week or two.” He runs a finger along the seam where the stitches lie, and you’re vividly aware of how the ridges feel. “Lucky for you, they’re in a spot where not a lot of stretching is done. But that still means no more weird Jake-esque adventure shit. Right?”

You nod, swallowing thickly around the lump that is still lingering in your throat. “Gotcha, loud and clear.” As you hazard a few movements, you find that all your muscles are taut with soreness, and your previously open wounds burn with the slightest movement. A weary sigh escapes you, and you allow yourself to drop back onto your pillow - which wrings a hiss from you as well. “I’m not usually the one to resort to belly-aching, but this is downright sour.”

Dirk lowers himself back down as well, resting about a foot away from you on the bed. He brings a hand up to run through one side of his hair, patting it down so it’s not sticking up in every direction. “Yeah, shit sucks. And here I was hoping to get up to morning make-outs.” That trademark smirk grows ever wider, and you find yourself mirroring it, much to Dirk’s amusement.

“I may be sore as a boil right now, but I never objected to that, Strider.” You reach across the sheets, entangling a hand in his, your eyes glimmering with uncharacteristic mischief. If you’re going to be subject to sitting out on all the things you used to enjoy, then you don’t see the problem in indulging yourself here. Besides, you and Dirk are official, right? No shame in actually kissing your boyfriend.

Even if the demon thing is still a little off-putting to you.

Though you do have to admit, there’s a certain charm to it.

Perhaps, one that you could slyly get him to flaunt.  
Oh, this is such a hypocritical train of thought, but you’re too beaten and not awake enough to decide otherwise.

“I’ll be honest, that was mostly a joke, but shhh, let’s ignore that. What was that about make-outs again?” Dirk scoots closer to you, legs intertwining with your own as he finds ways to press against your body. You would be doing the same, if not for the unpleasant sensation of your stitches contorting with the movement.

So instead, you opt to take the vocal path, exercising a part of your vernacular that you never thought you’d utilize. “I think I would like to… But, I might need a little persuasive action. Some might even say a suggestion of sorts. I hear you’re good at doing that, Dirk.”

It takes naught but a few seconds for it to click in Dirk’s mind. Then he canting his head, and shooting you a look that is both parts confused and wary. “So, let me get this right. You... _want_ me to place a suggestion in your head?” Despite how unsure Dirk sounds, it doesn’t stop him from pressing flush against you. The way his thigh presses up between your legs doesn’t pass by your judgement either.

And oh, if that sensation isn’t a welcome distraction from the overall pain. You let loose a breathy exhale, eyes falling closed for a short moment, before opening back up with twice as much devilry in them as before.

“I might say that I’m curious. But the real question here, is if you would like to indulge me, Dirk Strider.” You use your good arm to hook Dirk’s neck, pulling his face forward so that your lips are mere millimeters apart. Every breath, every little twitch can be felt on your skin. The intimacy of it makes goosebumps rise on your flesh.

“Consensual partial mind control. Is that what I’m hearing, English?” He whistles softly, as if in disbelief, like this is the last thing he ever imagined you’d say. Which isn’t far from the truth, to be perfectly honest. You never imagined you’d be requesting such a sinister thing, either. But oh, does it not sound sinfully delightful to you right now.

You’re suddenly aware of the coiling arousal making its home in your groin. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

“I would say it's a perfect way to exercise trust, Strider. After all,” You press your forehead against his, staring into his bright, captivating irises as you do so. “I _am_ putting my trust in you. Wouldn’t you like to prove that you can hold it?”

Dirk suddenly has hold of your chin, anchoring your face in place firmly as his eyes change in disposition; their skeptical edge taking on a seductive one, his gaze softening in all the right ways. You stare back, unafraid, willing to have your will undone in a parody of everything you fought against when the two of you first met.

Your mind goes fuzzy, static, all thoughts emptying themselves of your conscious. His irises blaze brighter, taking hold of your drive, your ambition, and twisting it into exactly what you asked for. The words are whispered, faintly there, planted in the barren field that is your mind right now.

_Want. Want. Want._

_So warm, so confined. Let loose. Let go. Give in._

_Dirk. Dirk. **Dirk**._

A choked noise escapes your lips, a shuddering breath shaking on the way out as heat floods you, replacing the ache in your body with one that is much more primal, much more pleasant than your stinging muscles.

Without thinking, you surge forward, planting a hungry kiss on Dirk’s lips as you desperately push against him, the ache of your muscles muted and far away. You lick at his lips, bite at them with your teeth, until he’s drawing your tongue in, a moan building up in his throat as he wraps his arms about your waist.

You push and grind and rub at any part of him you can reach with your body. He pulls your hips closers, hiking one of your legs around his waist as he returns the friction, teasing your cock into full hardness with his own. And Dirk moans, unashamedly, a noise that sounds strange and foreign to you, despite his true nature. Strange, but so wonderful in its own right. Music to your ears, in fact.

Truth be told, you need to hear more of that sound. So you refine your aimless grinding into something more appreciative of Dirk, making sure to drag your cock against his in repetitive, rough strokes, feeling it twitch even through the fabric of his pants. In return, he tosses his head back, mouth falling open on a elongated sigh of your name.

The opportunity to latch your mouth onto his neck isn’t missed, and you do so with vigor, sucking deep bruises into his fair skin and leaving teeth marks that will hopefully last a while before fading. You pull down the hem of his shirt and lick along the line of his collarbone, dragging a shudder out of him as you continue lavishing his neck in possessive marks and bruises.

Marks that will fade in no time, due to his demonic nature, but you still get to see them for now, and that’s all that matters.

A particular thrust has you whimpering pitifully, a sudden spike in sensitivity taking you off guard. If you still had full control over your thoughts, you’d be backing off, ashamed of the orgasm that was sneaking its way up on you so quickly. You’d find something else to do to prolong the experience, but all you can focus on right now is how much you want that orgasm. How much you want to come undone as messily and pathetically as you possibly can.

You bury your head against Dirk’s neck, breathing raggedly, trying to fill your lungs with air that your body seems to be stealing in place of the rising pressure on your cock. Your legs are shaking somewhat, muscles tightening, toes curling, teeth biting down on your lip. You clutch onto Dirk, fingers curling into his hair, his clothing. Anything to keep you ground against him.

“D-Dirk… Ahh… Ahh! Yes, yes...” Your voice is unashamedly loud, reverberating throughout his bedroom. If he has any neighbors awake, you have no sympathy for them. Your body feels feverish, unsettled, itching to move, to thrust harder, to derive more pleasure from this experience.

With energy you didn’t know you had (which you probably didn’t, in all honesty), you turn Dirk over on his back, clambering between his legs so you can thrust against his cock easier. The blonde lets loose a noise of shock, hands coming to steady themselves upon your hips. “Holy shit, Jake… Oh my god.”

He still pulls you closer, lifting his hips in time with your thrusts so your cock slides along the outline of his just right. You feel his hands fooling with the zip on your pants, loosening them and shimmying your clothing down until the upper part of your cock springs free, the head of it deep red and leaking droplets of precum. The same is done for him, and soon it’s skin upon skin, nerve endings being set alight as the slicked head of your cock trails a wet path of precum up his own.

“Here, here.” Dirk croons, taking hold of your dicks, caging them together so that no deviation or error can be made.

The blonde arches into the cushions of the bed, hissing out an gratuitous expletive as his mouth spreads into a satisfied grin, eyebrows arching and lips parting in a languid moan that follows soon afterwards. The sharp points of his fangs are put on clear display, and the sight and knowledge of what they can do to you has you sobbing out a desperate plea.

“Dirk… Dirk… Bite. Bite me...” The words leave your mouth with no thought. Just raw, basic desire. No forethought, no shame, no modesty. All you want is his teeth in your neck, filling you with those orgasmic feelings, making you spill onto him.

If Dirk spares any thought, it’s quickly washed away, because he’s reaching up for you, wrapping his arms around your torso in a vice-like hug, and dragging you down until his mouth is set against your neck. His tongue is cool and slick against your burning skin, giving you gooseflesh and making you tremble with anticipation and enthusiasm.

The faint sound of air hissing past his teeth is all you hear before a sudden piercing sensation is felt against your neck. You lurch uncontrollably, coughing out a groan at first, which quickly dissolves into a piercing noise of delight as the venom snakes it way into your veins, doubling any pleasure you felt beforehand, and sending your body into fits of trembles.

Dirk holds you firmly throughout it all, sucking hungrily at your neck, feasting on your very lifeblood, staining your shirt with tiny rivulets of blood. You barely register that he seems to be shaking faintly as well. Low, sultry noises of gratification are vibrating in his throat, some escaping as muffled sounds against your skin.

All you can do is arch against him. To any onlookers, it might have appeared that you were trying to escape. But the reality of the situation is that you simply just can’t stay still, your body thrumming with overstimulation, trying to find some way to alleviate itself of the overwhelming sensations plaguing it.

Release comes in the form of Dirk pulling his fang free of you, the sharp sting wringing forth a sharp cry that doesn’t quite fit your voice. Every muscle in your body goes extremely taut, your fingers tugging viciously at Dirk’s hair, your toes and feet curling in until the trembles wracking your body begin to subside.

Your shirt, which had been rucked up to your chest during the encounter, showcases an expanse of dark skin littered with ropes of comes, smeared by Dirk’s own skin and intermingling with his own as well.

You hadn’t even realized that he’d orgasmed. He was much quieter than you.

As the two of you lie there, your breath coming in haggard gasps and stuttering patterns, the rabid feeling of lust that had commanded your body and thoughts just moments earlier begins to fade. In it’s place, your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and your body aches from the physical exertion. Your hand comes up to your neck, and to your relief, you find that the side Dirk bit into is not the same one that had been injured the previous night. Your hand comes away stained with blood.

A sudden feeling of lightheadedness overtakes you, and you notice that the edges of your vision are blurry as well. You also register that you’re draped lazily over Dirk’s body, whose yet to say anything. Though you’re sure he doesn’t require the same amount of oxygen that you do, his chest still heaved with what you just shared.

Hesitantly, and with a meekness unbecoming of you, you mumble out, “I… I’m sorry about that.”

He laughs. Breathlessness and all, he laughs and it sounds genuine to your ears. “Don’t be. That. That was pretty fucking good. Really good. Goddamn.”

Your mouth widens into a lopsided smile, despite the chagrin you still feel. Carefully, you prop yourself up on your elbows, and glance up at Dirk. He’s yet to take his eyes off the ceiling, his mouth stained with blood that still threatens to trail down his chin and neck. A small sheen of sweat covers his forehead, his eyes unusually bright, even for their color. Despite the sexual fatigue, you deem that he somehow looks even more vibrant than before.

Well, he is a demon after all. They thrive off of blood, and you just gave him a generous helping of yours.

“How was it? Honestly.” He asks, and his voice has recovered, no longer coming in shaky tidbits. “Did it get your rocks off?”

Lazily, and with a lack of elegance, you roll off of him, sprawling out onto your back. An arm comes up to cover your eyes as you respond. “To put it bluntly, yes, it did. It knocked them straight off. I’m afraid I won’t be able to find them for a hot minute.” As you chance a look around the room once more, you find that your vision is suddenly swimming. “I don’t think it was a banging idea, though. Considering what happened just yesterday.”

Dirk chuckles, patting your forearm with his hand. “That’s what we call thinking with your dick and not your head.”

Despite yourself, you can’t hold back the juvenile comment that springs forth. “Depends on what context we’re using ‘head’ in.”

“That sounds like something my lil bro would say, not you, English. You must be out of it.” Dirk sits up, training his eyes on you. “But yeah, probably not a good idea to do that. You literally just got your blood back overnight, and here I am, making you lose it again.”

A fuzzy feeling settles over your body. Whether it be post-coital exhaustion or blood loss, or both, you don’t know. And you don’t care. All you know is that you just let an attractive demon get you off, and you have no qualms about it. At least, not right now. That, and going back to sleep suddenly sounds like an amazing idea.

“S’fine, mate. I volunteered this time.” A yawn fights its way out of your mouth, and you bat it away with your hand.

“Sounds like you could use another few hours.” Dirk surmises, and you don’t even object to it. You’re already pulling the covers back up, ignoring the way your pants are still sagging low on you, and your softened cock is still out for any innocent onlookers to see. Oh well. Sleep now, decency later.

“You haven’t...the slightest...idea.” The words are choppy and interspersed with yawns. “Mind if I borrow your bed again, Strider? I don’t think I should chance driving home like this.”

“Do you really need to ask?” Dirk rolls his eyes at you. He takes a moment to make himself decent, grabbing a spare shirt from near the side of the bed to clean himself off. You figure you’ll just shower once you get home. It might involve some sneaking around Jade to avoid any humiliation on your part, but oh well. Thoughts for later. Sleep is now.

“I s’pose not. But it doesn’t hurt to be courteous. Do you plan on joining me again?” You spare Dirk a loopy smile, feeling more and more off your rocker the longer you stay awake.

He shakes his head almost wistfully, deigning to take his leave. “Nah. As much as I would love to sit for a few more hours and stare at the ceiling, I’ve got shit to do today.” The look you shoot him makes him tack on quickly. “Oh, come on. I looked at you too. A lot.”

You wave a hand at him dismissively. “‘S’fine, fine. Go do your demon bidding. I’m going to fall into a short coma.”

Dirk catches your hand, bringing your knuckles up to place a feather light kiss on. “Just so you know, I’m not leaving you like a one-night stand, yeah?”

“Never dreamt of it, Strider.”

“Good shit.”

* * *

  **== > Be Dirk**

When you exit the bedroom, it’s with a fresh change of clothes and renewed vigor. One might even say that you have a spring in your step.

Ahh, yes. Post-feeding vibrancy. Always so wonderful.

As you’re about to exit the hallway into the living room, you nearly bump into Dave. Which is strange, considering how noisy he tends to be. You didn’t even hear his footsteps.

Your younger brother almost collides into you, which is even more unusual when you take your supernatural reflexes into account. You steady him by placing a hand on his shoulder, and the next detail you notice has your brow arching suspiciously.

He’s missing his shades, his deep, crimson eyes laid bare. It takes a moment for them to truly focus on you. In that moment, you swear you see something hidden behind the wine irises. Something that shouldn’t belong to Dave at all. You’ve been caring for your little brother for centuries, and you haven’t seen his eyes look like that often.

It sets a look of concern on your face. Before any words can be spoken on the matter, he’s already masking the look with a shit-eating smirk. Dave crosses his arms, head tilting as if to get a better look at something.

“So, just throwing this out there, but I’m pretty sure I can smell English’s scent all over you. You know, I thought you were gonna set him right, but damn bro, I didn’t know you guys would be fucking each other too.” Dave points at the bite marks that are quickly fading on your skin. “He’s a biter, huh? Fitting for an island guy.”

You give Dave’s shoulder a good push, causing the younger Strider to go off balance for a moment. “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, lil’ bro.” Dave recovers quickly, appearing to be miffed, but his expression quickly melts back into his sly smirk. “How’d your Valentine’s Day thing go? You finally get your wish?”

At that, the smirk really does dissipate from Dave’s face. Briefly, it settles back into that downcast countenance, before he quickly realizes that he’s let his mask slip, and rectifies it. “S’all good. Did some shit. You know how it goes.”

Dave takes the opportunity to push past you before you can make any quips, avoiding your usual banter altogether. You turn and watch him as he drifts down the hallway, a small ball of worry settling in your stomach. You realize that Jake is going to be here all alone with Dave, and find yourself calling out before you can stop yourself. “English is sleeping in my room. Don’t get any bright ideas.”

At that, Dave does turn to you, a flabbergasted look painting his face. “Do I look fucking stupid to you?” He shakes his head and continues down the hallway to his own room, the door latching shut behind him as he disappears into his personal sanctuary.

You stand there for a moment, contemplating bringing it up and asking what’s troubling your little brother. But you know Dave, considering he gained most of his attributes from you. Above all, you know that he won’t be willing to share anyway, if something is bothering him. You sigh and deem it pointless for now. If you spend anymore time dawdling, the Condesce won’t be happy. All you can do it hope that it’s nothing too serious. You trust Dave wouldn’t keep it from you if it was.

* * *

  **== > Be Jake**

Consciousness floods you a few hours later. When you wake, you’re stiffer than you were previously. If your limbs were overly stretched weights earlier, they’re dumbbells at this point.

You raise up in Dirk’s bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. When you chance a glance around the room, you find that your vision is no longer wobbly, though physical exhaustion clings to you like a pesky blanket. You feel your pants bunched around your thighs, and the memory of what transpired between you and Dirk has your face burning hotly.

You rest your head in your heads, mumbling pathetically to yourself, “I cannot believe I asked him to do that. Goodness gracious, what on earth is wrong with me? I’m going to hell, aren’t I?”

It takes you a long time to gather the confidence and drive to get out of bed. You fix yourself as best as you can in Dirk’s vanity mirror, making sure everything is done up as it should be. The blood stains on your collar are unavoidable though, and you’re not about to go rummaging through Dirk’s closet for a scarf.

You examine the teeth marks closely, comparing them to the vicious ones on the opposite side of your neck. Dirk’s mark is subtle compared to the marred flesh the demon left. There’s still bruising, hues of blue and purple tinting the puncture holes, but nothing compared to the monstrosity on the opposite side of it.

You sigh, despairingly. There’s no way you’re getting out of the apartment complex without some strange looks. You steel yourself for an embarrassing walk out of the apartment. That seems to be your life lately. Just one big walk of shame.

As you leave Dirk’s room and make your way down the hallway, you’re cut off by one of the doors swinging open abruptly. You pause mid step, wondering if perhaps Dirk stuck around to see you wake up. A head of platinum blonde hair sticks out from the doorway, though it’s not who you were expecting.

“English. Right?” You nod at Dave warily, taking in the deep hues of his crimson eyes. How strange, you think. You were sure that Strider’s prized their eyewear above most things and usually wouldn’t be caught baring their eyes to just anyone. You direct your gaze somewhere else, opting to stare at his nose instead. For some reason, staring into Dave’s eyes feels invasive, not right.

Not like Dirk’s eyes.

Dave sticks his hand out, waving a long piece of cloth at you. He tosses it in your direction, and you stumble forward to catch it before it can hit the floor. When you spread the cloth out to see what it is, you notice that it’s a red, cotton scarf. The ends of it are frayed into thin strips, with knots tying them together where they all meet.

You spare another look at Dave, mumbling out quietly. “Is this for John?”

Dave rolls his eyes - and you notice that the action reminds you of Dirk - and shakes his head. “Negatory, island boy. That’s yours. Figured you didn’t want to walk out of here looking like a hot mess.”

The notion catches you off guard. How...considerate? “Oh. Why, thank you old cha-!” But Dave is already in the motion of closing his door before you can finish. The sudden urge to exclaim how rude that was wells up in you, but you count your blessings and wrap the scarf around your neck with a small grimace. Beggars can’t be choosers, and at least this will save you from the walk of shame.

You find your keys placed neatly on the coffee table in the living room with a note tucked underneath them. Written in obnoxious orange ink is a letter from Dirk.

You’re not going to start ignoring me after this, right? Like, getting cold feet and all that shit. Anyway, I’ll message you later. And, uhh…

You notice that a few lines are scribbled out heavily on the note. You try to make out what they say, but Dirk has made sure to make them unreadable.

Take care of yourself. Yeah. 

“Ugh, Strider…” You scoff, tucking the piece of paper along with your keys into your pocket. Though the words come out with a hint of annoyance, you are anything but annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was painfully short compared to other chapters, but it's something I managed to get done in one sitting. The good news is that I've basically finished timelining this story out, so all that needs to be done is the writing part. Hehe... [sweats]


	12. Impulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave reaches critical levels. Mistakes are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was floored with the responses I got for the last update! So much, that it spurred me to work on the next chapter immediately. Considering I made everyone wait _months_ for an update, I only consider it fair that I crank out another one quickly for you all. So here it is. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for your support!

**== > Be Dirk**

“You know, if you keep staring like that, I’m gonna think you’re going catatonic on me.”

You’ve been staring a hole into Dave’s face for the past hour. Literally. Your eyes have rarely moved from their position, scrutinizing him closely in a mixture of both anxiety and worry. In turn, Dave has been eyeing the wall with way too much interest, red eyes hooded and not at all in the way a Strider’s eyes should be.

His eyes are still laid bare for everyone to see. The red irises scream of a weary nature, the color sorely dull compared to its usual depth and luster. To anyone else, it’d almost appear as if he wasn’t getting enough sleep with how prominent the shadows beneath them were becoming.

You tried your best not to seem overbearing, sneaking only a few spare glances in his direction for the past week or so. You know Dave doesn’t like being doted upon - a trait you fear he may have inherited from you. But when those shadows bad begun to manifest underneath his eyes, that ball of worry that had been ever-present in your gut turned into a dumbbell.

Those blemishes meant one of two things: either Dave was forgoing his annual rest, or he wasn’t feeding like he should be. Considering you opened his door the other day to him positively passed out and hanging halfway off his bed with a bag of gummy worms haphazardly strewn everywhere, you’re willing to bet money on the latter.

That’s nice and dandy and all, but the problem that persists here is you’re not sure how to approach him about it without seeming dodgy or pushy. Since you can’t bank on a tender way to broach the subject, you opt to just spit the words out at face value.

Ah, yes. Subtlety. Who needs it?

“Dave,” You start, voice a tad louder this time, and he visibly jumps, obviously broken out of whatever strange trance he’s been in for the past week. You wave your hand innocently, brows arching to crest just slightly over your shades. “Finally got your attention, huh? I’ve only been trying for the past ten minutes.”

Dave blinks, slow, sluggishly. The lack of energy in the simple expression has you swallowing thickly. “What’s that?” He asks, and his voice is scratchy, not at all refined. He must be absolutely parched.

You stand up from your perch on the ottoman and plop down on the couch beside him. He doesn’t say anything, opting to watch you with eyes that are much too slow for a demon of his nature. Up close, you can see that the vibrancy in his hair has waned, leaving behind platinum strands that are more dull than anything. Cornsilk instead of ivory.

“Let’s cut to the chase here, lil’ bro,” You begin, slapping a hand on his shoulder. The movement jostles him a little too much, and Dave visibly flinches at it. You instantly regret doing it, because it reinforces what you already know. “How’s the feeding been going lately?”

Dave immediately avoids any contact with your eyes, shrugging your hand off of his shoulder none-too-gently. “S’fine.” His eyes lower into his lap, his hands busying themselves with a stray thread on his jeans.

“Bullshit.” The word leaves your mouth instantly. “You think after a few centuries you can pull the wool over my eyes, kid? I ain’t blind. And neither are you. Have you even looked in the mirror lately?”

That prompts Dave to turn his head with a sharp jerk, a contrast to his usual clamber as of late. “Sorry, but is it really your fuckin’ business?” His voice is rough, like sandpaper, comparable to someone with a bad cold. “I don’t need you hanging over me like a goddamn cloud all the time. I’ve noticed that much.”

You rise to his challenge, knowing full well you shouldn’t because his anger is misplaced; a product of hunger and enervation. But this is the same old song and dance between you and him. Always the one to fire back, never the one to back down. He’s just like you in some ways, different in others. This is something you’re not sure you’re happy he shares.

You lean forward, resting your forearms on your thighs as your glare at him defensively. “Last time I checked, I’m the one that raised your scrawny ass, so yeah. It is my business. And it’d take a fucking idiot to realize that you haven’t been taking care of yourself. So how about you stop with the angsty bullshit and share whatever the hell is going on with you. Because I’ve been over it for the last week.”

Dave clenches his teeth, a sneer scrunching up the features of his face - which has taken on ill qualities of its own. His skin is no longer purely pale, but more-so almost translucent in some places, showing spidery branches of veins that are too thin. He mumbles something underneath his breath, eyes glaring sharp daggers at you.

“You wanna repeat that?” You challenge him, voice condescending despite it not being your real intent. Sometimes you really hate how much you suck at the ‘parent figure’ thing.

Dave shakes his head, refusing to give you a straight answer as he attempts to ignore you further. You can see the barely restrained anger in his movements, waiting to be unleashed at any second. Like an addict in the throes of detoxing. The lack of blood is a clear stress factor, a switch ready to be flipped at the smallest twitch.

If only you could figure out what has Dave acting so neglectful towards himself. You haven’t seen him behave like this for centuries. Not since he was…

Young. Really young. You remember the reluctance he displayed when you told him he’d have to start feeding on his own. He didn’t like the premise of it. It took months to get Dave to become comfortable with feeding sessions before he could do them purely on his own. During that time, you often had to force blood upon him in order to keep him healthy. More times than not, it was often your own.

So then…

You could only surmise one thing from this.

“This got something to do with John?” Your voice is hard, biting. Mostly because you thought Dave to be past this kind of self-deprecation. You didn’t think you’d ever have to deal with it again. But lo and behold, here he is, starving himself over some sort of moral reservation that probably isn’t as bad as he thinks it is.

Then again, your perspective on things tends to be a bit more open-minded.

“Answer me, brat.” The nickname isn’t intended to hurt him, but it does all the same. Rather, it has him ripping himself off the couch, twisting to face you with a growl - an outright, feral growl. Not even a warning hiss. Despite the escalating situation, you force yourself to stand as well, your two or three inches on Dave making you eclipse his height.

“Can you just FUCK off?! I already said it’s none of your goddamn business! Leave me the fuck alone, Dirk!” Dave’s sharp teeth flash with his outburst. He probably isn’t even aware that he’s baring them.

“How about you grow the fuck up and straighten your ass out? Then maybe I’ll stop treating you like the kid you’re acting like.” You cross your arms, inclining your head in a way suggests you’re glancing down the bridge of your nose at him. Ah, yes. How very respectful of you.

To be honest, you’re too annoyed to catch the gesture.

The shove you get in return is unexpected, and you have to scramble to keep your balance. Dave pushes you hard enough that you bump into the corner of the coffee table, and then the end table parallel to it. You steady yourself by placing a hand on the edge of the couch, but the look you shoot him in return has him hesitating for a split second, before the next batch of words are being growled at you. “Fuck you! Seriously, fuck! You!”

Dave turns on his heel, apparently done with anything else you have to say. But now you’re simmering with anger yourself, annoyed at your little shit of a brother when all you’re trying to do is take care of him. The more logical side of you would have insisted that the course of action you’re taking at the moment isn’t the most well-rounded, but the irrational, impulsive side of you doesn’t have a shit to give. Consider shits.exe officially unresponsive

“Where do you think you’re going?” The question is firm, your voice raised to an uncomfortable volume. An authoritative one. You follow behind Dave, closing the space between you and him quickly. He doesn’t answer, striding away like you’re not even there anymore. “Dave, you’re not going to leave this fucking house without f-”

You feel a fist collide with your nose. Immediately, you’re stumbling back again, actually doubling over as your hand comes up to assess the damage. There was definitely a crunch there, something snapping crooked. The punch Dave threw at you actually has you stunned. It’d be a lie to say it’s purely from the pain.

The sound of the front door slamming is the only thing that brings clarity back to you.

Your hand comes away stained with blood.

With hands that have a slight tremble to them, you wipe away the blood dripping from your nose, leaving messy smears of it across your face. The tremble you feel in your hands is spreading to your chest, and you swear you can feel your diaphragm rattling. Anger coils hotly in your limbs, and you itch to strike out at something yourself, anything to relieve the building pressure threatening to split you open.

The coffee table gets the brunt of your rage, one of the legs completely shattering and flying into the wall as you kick it away. It goes topsy turvy and collapses on the floor, all the contents sliding off of one side into a messy heap. A vicious growl leaves your throat. You bare your fangs at nothing in particular. Frantically, you tear your shades from your face and toss them across the room. They slide somewhere you don’t see, and you don’t really care.

The orange of your eyes blazes with fury.

Unthinkingly, you stomp your way over to the door with every intent to follow after him and return the gesture tenfold. But as you reach out for the door handle, you hesitate.

With shoulders that are still rising and falling with your heaving chest, you simply stare at the polished handle, knuckles straining against your skin as you grip it tightly. It’s a wonder the material doesn’t shatter under your strength. As you force yourself to stand still and close your eyes, you focus on your breathing. In, out. Nice and slow. Calm thoughts. Calm. Calm Like A Bomb.

You take to humming the lyrics to Rage Against the Machine’s song of the very same name, mouthing the verses silently as you feel yourself deflate a little, your bristles softening with the passage of time. Your muscles uncoil, the bleeding from your nose stemming as it clots.

This was the smartest choice, you decide. Going after Dave would have only ensured more violence. And as much of a hardass you can be, you don’t feel like fighting your little brother.

You’ll let him come back to you when he’s ready. As dangerous as you deem him being out there without any real sustenance, you trust that he won’t let it go that far. You hope that Dave would rather take care of his needs than let them build up to dangerous levels.

If he does come back with blood on his hands, then so be it. Maybe it’ll be a lesson to him.

* * *

**== > Be Dave**

The first place you think of is John’s house.

You know that’s a bad idea.

You don’t care.

The setting sun is an unwelcome companion as you travel to his neighborhood, figure blurring against the backdrop of the orange sky as you move. It’s shining just over the crest of the nearby mountains, rays bathing your face in an uncomfortable light. You wish it would just disappear already.

You can tell you’re not moving as fast as you should be. Already, you’ve almost lost your footing a couple of times, tripping on things that shouldn’t have posed an obstacle to you. Your head is pounding, pressure building behind your eyes and making them feel as though they’re about to pop from your skull.

Your entire body feels sickly, in fact. You feel as frail as a paperbark tree, as though your bones are made of glass. Your hair is disheveled, the nails on your fingers lacking their typical porcelain appearance, your lips taking on a greyish hue. It feels as though every little action is a grand undertaking, requiring all of your strength.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if the last time you fed hadn’t been two weeks ago. A week before Valentine’s day, in fact. You’d been planning to take care of your needs afterwards, but then…

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the wind rush against them as you do.

Why did things get so complicated so fast? One day, you’re comfortable with who and what you are, and the next, you’re finding the mere idea of feeding nauseating. Perhaps you may have been able to power through the moral crisis of it alone if not for the stabbing betrayal it felt like you were inflicting upon John. Innocent, unaware John. He thinks you’re such an ethical, pure person. You laugh at how wrong he actually is.

It’s a double-edged blade. You know that much. What you’re doing is nonsensical and childish in a way, but you don’t listen to reason. It feels good, emotionally, to deprive yourself of blood. It feels justified. This is what you get for taking advantage of so many people. This is what you deserve.

This is what it takes to do John justice.

Childish. Your hand aches. The phantom feel of Dirk’s nose crunching under your fist makes your chest twinge uncomfortably. He was just trying to help you, to look after you. You hurt him in return.

God, you feel like you can’t do anything right.

This whole situation is irrational. Even now, you’re not really thinking, just acting on instinct alone. You know where comfort usually lies, and it’s with John. Before that, it was music, but having Dirk’s prying eyes watching you like a hawk was too much for your already crowded mind. Your thoughts are swaying back and forth, no real order to them, no real reasoning going on behind your eyes.

For fleeting moments, you catch what you’re doing, only for that hungry haze to encompass you once again. You guess that’s what gave it away to Dirk. The empty staring, the zombie-like demeanor. It was stupid to try and hide it from him in the first place. You’ve always been an open book to your brother.

What you’re doing right now screams of danger and foolhardiness. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that you’re going to be jeopardizing John’s safety. Even when you were full and fed, the temptation to bite into him always persisted. As a half-starved demon though?

You don’t think about it. You don’t think at all.

You just want him to be with you.

By the time you reach John’s house, the sun is saying its final goodbye behind the mountains, the shadows of the night pulling over the land like an ominous blanket. You forgo knocking on his front door, knowing full well that he’s probably up in his room. A patch of vines and vinyl fencing trails up the side of John’s house, conveniently running right by his bedroom window.

You scale it quickly, and place your hands against the glass of his window. Luckily, it’s unlocked, and you’re able to push it open using the friction of the glass on your hands.

John turns to you immediately, abandoning whatever he was looking at on his computer in favor of ogling you with surprised eyes. “Dave…? Holy shit, Dave! Is that you?” He walks over quickly, helping you crawl through the allotted space in the window, though you really don’t need the help at all.

You stumble in, none too elegantly, opting to rest your back against his wall as you sit on his carpet, strangely out of breath. The room is spinning in unpleasant ways, your vision doing its best impression of a fishing bobber. You don’t really register John’s presence next to you until he’s kneeling down on his knees, his hand resting against your shoulder as his bright blue eyes study you.

John’s surprised smile turns sour as he takes in your appearance, worry making his brow furrow. “Oh wow, dude… You look really rough. Are you sick or something?” John cards a hand through your hair, and the sensation is barely there, lost in the sea of stabbing pain that is your head right now. You hear a small gasp as your eyes close of their own accord, finding it harder to register the meaning of John’s words as your other senses latch onto something much more profound.

“Dave… Dave, are you okay? Jegus, your skin… Are those...veins?” John’s hand strokes along the curve of your face, tracing the branching veins that are showing through your unhealthy skin. “I’m not gonna lie. You look incredibly bad. Dude, what are you doing here? You should be at a doctor or something! Or hell, even a hospital! Hey, where’s your phone? I’m gonna call your-”

His wrist lingers by your nose one second too long. The sound of his blood thrumming underneath that fragile layer of skin has you positively salivating, your mouth filling with water as your stomach aches with pain. Your throat feels dry and cracked, burning as though on fire. You feel like your heart is beating a hundred miles per hour, the sound of it too loud, too uncomfortable. Static rings in your head, drowning out John’s concerns, making your vision even more clouded. You can’t think, you can’t think, you can’t handle this, it’s too much, you’re going to die if you can’t have it, you need it, you need it, _you need it…!_

Quicker than John can react, you jerk your head to the side, grabbing his arm and clamping down on it none too gently. Your fangs sink through his flesh with total ease, piercing veins and allowing that saccharine liquid to flow freely into your mouth. It’s like instant relief, your body singing with euphoria, a primal growl resonating in your throat as you bite harder, feeling blood pool into your mouth even faster as a result.

The sound of John shrieking in pain does nothing to your conscious, which is strangely missing at the moment. There is no right or wrong, no moral high ground anymore, no incentive to do good. It feels so good to give in, to get what you’ve been craving for so long, to throw all your inhibitions away.

John tugs his arm, trying to wrench himself away from you, but you hold steady, willing him to stay seated as you take your fill. You hear him choke out an expletive before he wrenches his arm once more, finally tearing your teeth out of his skin and sending him sprawling back onto the carpet as he heaves for breath.

Your mind is in a haze, your thoughts inconceivable, your hunger not nearly sated. A mere appetizer for the main course. There’s no way you’re done. Not yet, not here.

John cradles his wounded arm against his chest, tears pricking at his eyes as he surveys the damage. Blood is smeared across his forearm, dripping lazily onto his blue carpet. The bite wound is savage, the skin torn in unappealing ways from the way your mouth clamped down so tight. A choked sob breaks free from his mouth, and finally, he turns to face you.

Already, you’re leaning forward on all fours, ready to pounce yet again, raw instinct leading your actions. John’s lips tremble, his words shaking terribly as he speaks, “D-Dave… Dave, what are you d-doing?” You crawl forward, nails digging into the carpet as you go, completely ignoring his question. John lets loose a frightened noise, scrambling back a few paces when he sees that you’re not listening. “Please, Dave! Listen to me!”

The smell of his blood has tainted the entire room by this point. It has you shaking with anticipation, tongue flicking out to lick at the remnants of it on your lips. Your mouth spreads into a malicious, covetous grin, your bloodied teeth on fully display for the petrified boy in front of you.

John clenches his teeth, crawling backwards until his back hits the frame of his bed. Droplets of blood stain the carpet in a trail leading up to his position. You can see the tendons in his neck standing out, his body tensed so rigidly from fear. “What’s wrong with you? W-Why are you doing this?”

You continue crawling towards him, tiny droplets of blood finally reaching the bottom of your chin, dripping into the fabric of your coat. John let’s loose a frustrated noise, voice taking on a desperate edge. “Answer me, _Dave_!”

No words come from your mouth. It’s still spread into that bloody smile, all animalistic hunger and no cognitive thought. As you reach John, some part of you notices a sudden change in his demeanor, a deep contrast to his fearful disposition from mere seconds earlier. Despite the blood loss that had just occurred, his cheeks have turned rosy, his breaths coming in deep increments now. The sound of his breaths are tinged with barely audible arousal, his feet digging into the plush carpet, his front teeth sinking down into his lip.

A part of you recognizes it as the venom from your bite taking effect. The heady smell of John’s arousal is like a thick incense to you, a welcome and pleasant addition to the mix of scents in the room. Even John realizes that all is not right, his expression muddled, reluctant.

You pounce on him.

There’s no real fight given back, John’s body choosing to betray itself in favor of offering up its flesh in exchange for pleasure. You grab him by his shoulder, pushing him down onto his side, where he barely manages to roll onto his back before you’re pinning him down with your own body. With no gentleness offered in his direction, you pin both his arms on either side of his head, squeezing way too hard, leaving blooming bruises underneath your grip.

A growl rips its way free of your mouth as you lunge down, hungrily sinking your teeth into the side of his neck, forcing his head to incline towards the side and inciting a sharp yelp on John’s behalf. Blood gushes past the initial bite wound, sliding down your parched throat, making the taste buds on your tongue come alive with the flavor. This bite is no less vicious than the last, bordering a little too much on the painful side than anything else. But to anyone really listening, the shriek of pain that came from John definitely faded into more of a moan towards the end.

Everything seems to fly by in a blur, though you’re acutely aware of how your body seems to be buzzing now. The pounding behind your eyes has all but lost its sharp edge, being replaced by the thumping of your heart greedily pumping in fresh new blood. Your sense of hearing sharpens, the sound of John’s whimpers and moans spurring you on. The grip you had on his arms loosens, your hands sliding gently off of his in favor of stroking their way underneath his shirt, trailing up his warm sides.

John trembles, writhes underneath you, huffs out a breath interspersed with shudders and choked noises of carnal pleasure. He tilts his head further away, exposing more of his neck, giving you more leverage to dig in, to bite harder. Blood seeps past your lips, smearing across his neck, tinting his dark skin a lovely shade of crimson. The sweet scent of it is maddening enough, but the honeyed taste is driving you wild, urging you to drink every last drop up, to not let a single rivulet escape your tongue.

Though your eyes are closed, you feel John wrap his arms and legs around you, pulling you tightly against him as if he’s holding on for dear life. Your name is but a keen on his lips, a small stutter between his quick breaths and sobs. One of his hands makes its way into your hair, his fingers tangling into your locks in an iron grip.

He tugs, and you feel the sting on your scalp vividly. It’s as though a switch has flipped in your mind, and suddenly everything is coming back with full clarity.

A sense of dread spreads throughout your stomach, and suddenly the blood flowing into your mouth is serving to make you nauseous, despite the overtly sweet flavor. You immediately tear away from John, so much that you fly back up into a sitting position, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your crimson eyes are wide, glowing, horror resting in their depths. Your whole body seems to be shaking, whether it be from fear or satisfaction. You’re not sure which one it is. You think it might be both.

The realization hits you like a semi, an apprehensive sob seizing you up. Your blood runs cold for a moment.

You attacked John. You fed from him against his will.

A trembling hand covers your mouth. You feel as though you’re about to be sick. John is still lying on the floor, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, legs arranged in a heap. His eyes seem to be glazed over, hooded, unseeing. One of his hands trails weakly up to his neck, covering the bite wound, an unsteady breath fighting its way free from his lungs.

The anxiety continues to mount in your chest, making you suck in breaths that don’t seem to satisfy your body. Your stomach churns, your body itches, you feel a sweat breaking out upon your brow. You can’t be here anymore, you can’t. You can’t look at what you’ve done.

“I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry. I- I- Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” You wrench yourself to your feet, flash-stepping through the window, landing on unsteady feet on the lawn as you all but flee from John’s house. You’re barely out of his neighborhood before you feel your stomach giving up, what little blood that hadn’t been absorbed into your bloodstream spewing from your mouth as you hack and cough in a parody of vomiting.

By the time you’re done dry heaving, the shaking has only gotten worse, the anxiety eating away at you like a plague. All you want to do is just take off running in some direction, run until you grow tired of it, run until this town and the city and everyone you know here is nothing but a distant memory.

Despite that, you find your feet taking you back to Dirk.

By the time you make it back to the apartment, you all but collapse through the front door, falling to your knees. Dirk, who’d been sitting on the couch, immediately springs to his feet, a look of pure concern overshadowing anything else that may have been on his face. Splotches of black have made themselves prevalent underneath his eyes, a side effect from you breaking his nose.

He runs over to you, kneeling down so he can grab your shoulders and lift you to eye level. “Dave? Dave? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Tears prick your eyes, spilling over when they become too much, running down your cheeks in quick streams. You grasp onto Dirk’s arms, shaking your head weakly, voice naught but a pitiful croak.

“I messed up. I messed up so bad, Dirk.”

* * *

**== > Be Dirk**

By the time you have Dave quarantined and milked for any information pertaining to what he might have done, you’ve got your phone out and are tapping on Jake’s number, which you have set to speed dial.

As you wait for him to pick up, you scuff the front of your shoe nervously into the linoleum of your kitchen floor, tapping out a rhythm that is less substance and more so a weak attempt to calm your whining train of thought.

It seems like it takes him an ungodly amount of time to pick up, as though he waited for the very last ring to humor you. When the opposite line does crackle to life, it’s with a chipper tone. “Why, hello there, Strider! It’s a bit late to be calling, wouldn’t you say?” The sound of a television droning on in the background can be heard, explosions galore and gunshots easily discernable from the muffled talking of the actors.

“Jake, something’s come up.” You try your best to keep your voice level, calm, free of any nervousness that might betray how uneasy you feel at the moment.

“Oh?” Jake pauses for a moment, the television noises quietening somewhat as he seemingly turns down the volume or walks away from the source of racket. “This sounds serious, Dirk. What’s the matter? Can I help?”

You draw in a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you have to tell him. You know this can go only two ways, and the gamble you’re about to take has your stomach fluttering with discontent. “Yeah, well. You might be the only person who can help.” There’s a short pause, a moment to gather your wits about yourself. “Jake. Hear me out on this. It’s gonna sound bad, but you have to hear me out.”

You reluctantly relay what happened with Dave. When you give Jake a turn to input his reaction, you’re only met with silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take a moment to direct your attention to another fic, [It Matters Not to Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4228788/chapters/9564255). I am an avid fan of this fic, and I highly recommend everyone to give it a try. If you're a fan of the demonstuck setting, then you'll love the dark tone of this story.


	13. A Bitter Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake comes to John's aid. Secrets are exposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh boy. This chapter was a doozy to write up, but it's done! There's a ton of interaction in this one, and a lot of secrets exposed. If you're enjoying the lore aspect of this story, you'll enjoy this chapter. That, and those of you who are fans of Jake interacting with John will like this as well. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting! Without further ado, please enjoy the next chapter.

**== > Be Jake**

Silence on your end. That's all you can offer Dirk.

Your mouth has fallen open somewhat, your brows pinched together in increasing horror and worry. John… John has been hurt, and the perpetrator of the crime? Dave Strider. The very thing that you set out to save him from has still somehow managed to happen.

As the seconds tick by and Dirk’s end of the line remains nervously quiet, the shock slowly begins to turn into anger, and then fury. You’re face is unbearably hot, your teeth clenched as you grit out through the phone, “What. Did you say.”

Dirk has a rebuttal immediately, his voice frantically filling in the silence on his part. “Jake, listen, I knew you were going to be pissed, but I need you to not be angry right now. You need to go check on your cousin. Now. I’m giving you 10 minutes to get over there, and then I’m calling again. And you need to pick up the phone. Don’t ignore me.”

Your first instinct is to yell, “Why not!?” But the distressed tone in Dirk’s voice unnerves even you. So you bite your tongue and give him a gruff “okay” before hanging up. Wildly, you slap your hand around your desk until you feel them hit the keys, and slide them off the table in one go. You’re half shrugging your jacket on, and half trying to put your phone away as you make your way downstairs from your room.

Jade is doing something in the kitchen when you pass her in the foyer. She makes a surprised noise when she sees you all but rush down the stairs and yank the front door open. “Jake! Where are you going? What’s wrong, why’re you in such a rush?” Jade tilts her head at you, confusion evident in her eyes.

You don’t have the time to stop and explain things to her, and you don’t feel like wrangling her into the situation. So you hastily throw out a few clumsy words, “Can’t talk. Need to leave. Don’t worry about me.” You step through the front door and rush down the sidewalk to your awaiting vehicle. Your sister runs to the doorframe and stands in its arch, worry painting her expression.

“Wait, Jake! What’s going on?”

You’re already in the vehicle by now, and turning the key in the ignition. It purrs to life instantly. Before you slam your door shut, you shout over the roof of your car, “We’ll speak about it later!” Jade gets no time to fit in any more questions, as you’re already peeling out of your parking spot and leaving tire marks on the road.

John’s house is naught but a short drive away, but you’re doing twice the speed limit. Dirk gave you a small window of time to work with, and it’s not like you were going to dawdle while John toed the line of life and death. Your grip on the steering wheel is vicious, your knuckles pressing against your skin until they turn white. Your free leg that isn’t pressing down on the gas pedal bounces nervously, and the radio droning on is no better than static noise to you.

Idly, you wish that John’s father didn’t work overtime so much. Even if the elder Egbert has no idea about the existence of demons, he still could have been there to help John right away. But you know it’s unfair to blame him, seeing as how he’s a single father and he has to make ends meet somehow.

Still, this wasn’t supposed to happen. There was a truce. There was trust. You’d been thoroughly convinced that everything was going to be okay.

Your neck itches uncomfortably, and you rub roughly at it. The wounds left by the demon that’d attacked you had healed incredibly and wonderfully fast, including Dirk’s own mark. But the idea that you let the older Strider feed from you and this is what you get in return? It makes your skin crawl. It makes you seethe with betrayal and hurt.

Dirk promised you that nothing like this would happen. He lied.

Or he was genuinely wrong.

You don’t care either way. It’s not something you can let go.

John’s home comes into view quickly, and you have to slam on the brakes to come to a full stop without passing it by. In your panic-stricken fervor, you shut off the vehicle and hop out of it quickly, running up to the front door to jiggle its handle. Of course it’s locked. John never left the front door open when he was home alone. A curse breaks free from your mouth and you kick the wooden door none-too-gently. If you didn’t think it’d alarm his neighbors, you’d try to kick the door down and go in that way.

Oh well. That’s what windows are made for, right? Emergency entrances.

You round the house to the side where John’s window is, and notice that the window is already wide open and the light is on. As quickly as you can, and without causing harm to yourself, you scale the fence running next to his window and maneuver yourself through the small space. When you hit the floor unceremoniously, the first thing you see is John lying at the foot of his bed, clutching his neck with a blood-covered hand.  

“John!” You can’t stifle the worried cry, and you all but scramble your way over to him, rolling him  from his side to his back to get a better look. John’s eyes are glassy, barely able to discern what they’re seeing. His dark skin has taken on an ashen tone, a sure sign of deep blood loss, and the hand plastered against his neck trembles ever so slightly.

You gently grasp it and pull it away, and the bite mark there still pulses with blood. A jugular. Dave had hit his jugular, and while he hadn’t tore it completely, it was still enough to warrant outright panic, and definitely enough to kill someone if left open for too long. Your breaths come shaky as you all but tear off your jacket and press it to the wound, trying to stem the bleeding as much as you can.

“John... John! Look at me! Focus on me, okay?” Blearily, John’s eyes wander until they meet you, but even then, they’re barely able to stay still. “Good, good. Stay awake! Whatever you do, do not allow yourself to fall asleep. I need you to stay awake for me, okay?” You notice John’s lids lowering, and it makes you lurch. “Focus!”

Blood is already seeping through your jacket, and the cold realization that this is too fast, too soon hits you. There’s not enough time to help him, given how much blood he’s already lost to being fed upon. His body doesn’t have much more to offer before it runs dry. It’s incredible that he’s still alive at this point.

Your free hand comes up to grasp wildly at your hair. “Fuck!” You yell, distress making you shake with fear. What do you do? Call 911? They wouldn’t get here fast enough, the nearest 911 center residing in the city limits. Even if they could, you’d have a can of worms trying to explain what happened here that didn’t paint you or anyone else as a possible criminal or lunatic.

You feels tears prick at your eyes, and blink them away furiously. You shouldn’t be crying right now. There are more important things, like your dying cousin. There’s no time for tears. But they come regardless of what you want, and John’s face goes blurry as your vision clouds with them. “John, please!” You don’t know what you’re asking of him. What can he do?

What can you do?

Your body is cold with dread and terror, but you feel a familiar heat buzzing in your hands. “John, don’t…” It comes out as nothing more than a weak croak. You press both of your hands hard against his neck, willing the blood to stay, for your cousin to live. Your head drops low, and you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling hot tears dripping off your face. You were so stupid. You should have tried to protect him more.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” It’s a mantra whispered under your breath, a slap in your face, a stab in your heart. This is all your fault. You had the means to take care of things, and you didn’t. You got wrangled into a relationship with a monster and let his pipe-bomb brother go unchecked. Worst of all, you know deep down that this was never intended to happen. Not even Dirk could have foreseen this. You can’t even blame him fully, even though you want to.

You’d still love him.

_You love him_. Oh god. You do.

Your palms are burning uncomfortably. Your eyes remain closed. You can’t watch him pass.

Seconds drift by, all of them spent in self-loathing and mourning. Your head stays bowed, the rest of your body cold in comparison to how hot your hands are burning. You can’t even focus enough to wonder why. All you know is that this is your fault. You let your cousin die. The heat reaches a fever pitch.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and you feel John’s body lurch forward. Your eyes shoot open, and you see your jacket literally disintegrating into ash under your hands. John eyes are open as well, wide, his teeth clenched so tightly that you fear he may crack them. From underneath the remains of the jacket and your hands comes a glow so bright that it nearly blinds you. Your fingers feel as though they’re on fire now, and the sensation is borderline painful.

You would have yanked your hands away if it were not for what was happening underneath them. All you can do is sit there, frozen, mouth agape as you watch the skin underneath them mend together, flesh repairing itself and leaving the skin near flawless, as if the bite had never been there. Even the blood dissipates underneath the primal heat of your hands.

John’s skin, which had been a dismal ashy color, begins to regain some of its natural tint, color flooding his cheeks, clarity coming back to his eyes, breath coming in short gasps. Suddenly, he raises up, hand knocking yours away as it comes to paw protectively at his neck, feeling for a wound that should be there, but isn’t. John’s eyes are still wide with shock, and now they’re flitting over to you, utterly confused and terrified.

You find that the heat in your hands has all but dissipated, leaving nothing but a gentle warmth there now. The glow has vanished as well, and you stare at your palms with a perplexed expression, wondering what on earth just happened. Your mind is in a frenzy, trying to dig for anything that could give you an answer, but it all comes up void.

What the hell did you just do?

It doesn’t matter though. Whatever you did, it saved John’s life, and that’s good enough for you. Answers can come later, so you busy yourself with hugging your cousin, hearing him hiss out a small whine of pain with how tight your embrace is. “John! Oh, John, I was so worried over you! I don’t know how, but through some malarkey, you’re okay! I’m so sorry! I really ballsed everything up, and I’m just. So sorry!”

John’s voice is rough, scratchy as he pats your back with the hand that isn’t lodged between him and you. “Jake-  I don’t- What… I…”

You don’t give him any more time to stumble over his words. “I know, I know. This is all so sudden, and complete bollocks, and you’re probably gobsmacked, but I won’t keep it away from you anymore and I’m going to tell you exactly what kind of rubbish has been happening behind your back.”

If the deepening look of confusion on John’s face is anything to go by, you think you’ve managed to confuse him further. “Jake, I don’t know-”

The blaring sound of your phone ringing interrupts him, and you suddenly remember that Dirk promised to phone you after a set amount of time. You idly wonder how all of that managed to take place within ten minutes. “I… I should take this call.” You murmur quietly, even though you dread picking up the phone. You’re still stuck on the whole, ‘Your brother almost murdered my cousin and I pulled some dodgy magic out of myself and suddenly he is very much not dead’.

Dirk’s voice comes through immediately once you take the call. “Jake? What’s happening? How he is?”

“He’s, err… alive. Very alive.” You glance up and down John’s figure, still amazed at the difference between now and five minutes ago.

“...Shit.” Your brows arch in confusion at that. Wait, what? “Did he- Did he have any blood around his mouth? In his mouth? Did he ingest any at all? Fuck, Dave, if you did what I think you did…”

“Dirk, I don’t think I follow… John is alright. He didn’t have any… blood in his mouth. Right?” You turn your eyes to John, and he nods, despite his shell-shocked disposition. You can’t really blame him. This is a lot to take in all at once. “Right. No blood. Why, what’s wrong?”

There’s a sigh of relief on Dirk’s end. “Thank fuck for that. Listen, that’s a whole ‘nother subject for later. I’m going to ask you to do something else, and I’ll understand why you’ll try to decline, but I’m going to stop you there and say that this needs to be done. For everyone.” Dirk pauses, and you wait silently for him to continue. “I need you to bring John here. To us. Dave. And I need you to let them sort this shit out.”

“You’re pulling my leg.” Your tone is flat, unamused. Dirk wants you to bring John to his almost killer and put them in the same room again? Bollocks. “I’m not going to let John go anywhere near him. In fact, you tell Dave Strider that if I ever catch him near John again, I’ll-”

“Dave?” John whispers, leaning towards the phone. His expression turns panicked as he grabs your arm desperately, “Where is he? Is he okay? Is he sick? Is that why he did that? Oh god, is this like the zombie apocalypse or something and Dave is slowly turning into one of them, is that what’s going on, Jake? Were you withholding this from me?” John goes to reach for the phone, and you press your hand against his chest to hold him back. “Tell me if he’s alright!”  

“N-No! No, that’s completely wrong, he’s not a zombie, John, he’s- urgh, hold up Dirk! There’s too many people asking me things all at once!” You hold John at bay while Dirk continues trying to talk to you. “Buggar all, I’m not going to do that. That’s final, Strider.”

A weary sigh is heard through the receiver. “I heard him talking, Jake. He doesn’t sound too scared by it. If anything, the kid sounds terrified for my lil’ bro. What do you propose, huh? Keeping them separated and never addressing any of the bullshit that happened? You gonna lock John up and guard his house for the rest of your life?” There’s a heavy pause, and then Dirk’s voice returns, though it's now ridden with uncertainty. “Are you… done with me, too?”

Any resolve you’d built up before crumbles at that. Dirk’s tone digs into your ribs like a knife and constricts your heart like a boa. “Dirk, no… I wasn’t saying that. I just- Don’t you understand where I’m coming from? He’s my family. I don’t want to endanger him anymore.”

“And Dave is my family, and I don’t want this to be something that keeps him down for the next century. So let’s just put this to rest. Let’s fix all this bullshit in one go. And,” Dirk takes in a deep breath, presumably through his nose. “I want to talk to you.”

Well… If that isn’t a proposition you can’t refuse without feeling like an utter asshole, you don’t know what is. So you bite the bullet and sigh out regrettably, “Fine. Okay, we’ll… We’ll meet you there. Just…”

“I know,” Dirk’s tone has shifted to sympathetic. “You just want him to be safe. And he will be this time. I promise you. I swear on my life.”

“Alright.” Your voice has dropped to a whisper by the time you decide to hang up. When you finish the call, you drop your phone on the bloodstained carpet and press the palm of your hands into your eyes, the blood on them having been seared away by the light in your palms. Your glasses are pushed up into your hair, and suddenly you feel so utterly exhausted. Reluctantly, you speak, “John?”

The sounds of movement can be heard, and from within your proximity, you can feel John settling beside you. “Yeah?” His voice is thankfully quiet now, having calmed somewhat from earlier

“Do you wish to go see him?” You rub at your eyes, feeling dampness from the tears that’d gathered there. In hindsight, you find it almost embarrassing that you’d ended up blubbering so much. Though you suppose you have an excuse as good as any other. “Dave, I mean."

John doesn’t answer right away. You listen to his breathing, which has also leveled out, and you’re in no rush to get an answer. But it does come eventually. “Yeah. Can you take me to him?”

Your answer is your hand fishing into your pocket to retrieve your keys. You dangle them in front of John, offering him the best smile you can manage at the moment, “What other use am I good for?” It’s all in jest, and it manages to make John crack a tiny smile.

“Well, you’ve got this to dangle over my head now. Whatever this was. I’m still so… I don’t even know what word to use. I feel like I might be underreacting right now. Is that shock? Is this what shock is like? Am I going to have PTSD or something?” John laughs again, stronger this time, despite his words. “What the fuck is going on anymore?”

“You’re about to find out.”

* * *

**== > Escort John to the Striders**

 The ride into the city limits is quiet for the most part. As much as you can feel the flow of words pressing against your teeth and begging to be let loose, your lips remain sealed. Every few minutes, you sneak a glance over to John, who’s sitting in the passenger seat of your vehicle and lacking the blood-soaked clothing he had earlier in favor of a fresh change.

He doesn’t look terribly afraid, but he doesn’t look thrilled either. Not that you expected him to be. He mostly just looks concerned, his blue eyes staring out the window at the passing landscape and his lips quirked in a peculiar way.

From a logical standpoint, you think he should be fighting you tooth and nail over this. Begging you not to take him back to the monster that almost tore his throat out. From a logical standpoint, you should be cutting off all ties with Dirk and Dave Strider, and be amassing a team of skilled people to either take them out or chase them out of the city. Like the famous hunters Kanaya had mentioned to you all those weeks ago in the club.

But you figure love makes people impervious to some things. And what logic isn’t really taking into account is that Dirk and Dave Strider aren’t bad people. Not really. And you love one of them. And John apparently loves the other. So much that he’s willing to toss everything aside - including his safety - to figure things out on his own.

This is silly, you think. Just downright bonkers.

“Are you certain you’re okay?” You ask John, for what feels like the hundredth time. You see him nod his head out of the corner of your eye, though he refuses to break his gaze away from the window. “Are you scared?” The question is a gentle murmur.

“No,” John’s answer is immediate, absolute. “Which is weird,” He adds with a small laugh. “I think I should be. But I’m not. I just… I didn’t feel any genuine malice from Dave during it. It’s like he couldn’t control himself. Like he was feral. And what little bits I can remember afterwards- He looked so. I dunno. Guilty. Awful. And I wanted to say something, but he ran, and I couldn’t speak.” John sighs, resting the temple of his head against the window. “I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. But I want to know if he’s alright.”

“Ah.” It’s not really an answer, but you hope John understands your desire not to push him for more words. You already feel like you’re walking on eggshells after that fiasco, waiting for him to suddenly freak out and try to roll out of your vehicle in an attempt to escape. He’s too calm, you think. You’d feel better if he was freaking out more. Because that’s a normal reaction.

But it really sounds like he worked everything out quite quickly. You barely remember any details from your first encounter with Dirk, panic having muddled your memories. But you guess John didn’t have to deal with the gnawing paranoia that something was out to get him. He was always much more witty than you.

Despite your desire to drop the conversation, John continues talking regardless, “Are they vampires? Is that what they are?”

His question makes you smile in amusement. “A good assumption, but I’m afraid you’re incorrect. They’re much more durable than that.”

“Will you tell me what they are then?” Unlike your own voice, John’s is serious. You remain quiet, hoping he’ll just drop the subject altogether. You really don’t want to talk about it right now, despite your promises of telling him everything. John doesn’t take the silence lightly. “I’m serious, answer me. What are they, Jake?”

Thickly, you swallow around the lump that seems to have permanently lodged itself in your throat. Your mouth is terribly dry, you realize, and your tongue feels like sandpaper. “Demons.” You blurt the single word out, refusing to take your eyes off the road to see John’s reaction. “Bonafide demons that happen to feast on blood to keep themselves healthy.”

You hear John breathe in deeply, before the breath is being let go in one, long exhale. “Demons.” He repeats flatly. “And you knew about them. How long?”

“Long before you met him.” You admit, cheeks beginning to burn with shame. “I never wanted- I didn’t want to ever drag you or anyone else into this hogwash. I thought you would be better off if you never knew, but I-” You sigh, resisting the urge to bang your head on the steering wheel. Certainly not the best idea while you were driving. “I should have warned you of what he was. Perhaps this tosh would have never happened.”

“And Jade?” John continues, not missing a beat. His voice is uncharacteristically serious, and it’s making unease coil in the pit of your stomach.

“...Yes.” You sigh, crestfallen. “Are you angry with me, John?” He doesn’t answer right away, and the unease gathering at your core makes the words spill out quickly. “If you are, I just want you to know that we never intended- it was never our intentions to lie to you out of a contrived sense of righteousness. We always thought that the truth would hurt you more than anything. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder for swarmy figures or fearing going out into the night. I didn’t want you to literally lose your marbles over being so paranoid all the time.” Interestingly enough, the words hit home with you. You idly realize that you’re describing yourself to John.

John breaks his gaze away from the window, and you spare a safe second to return the look. Instead of annoyance or anger, you find that he looks quite guilty. “I’m not angry. I’m just… confused. I don’t know how to explain how I’m feeling right now.” John bites his bottom lip, eyes falling closed. “I’m not angry. I still love you and Jade and you guys are the greatest cousins I could ever ask for. But I just wish I knew sooner. Maybe I could have helped his with whatever caused this.”

You surmise that by ‘him’, he means Dave. “You’re not scared shitless by him after that?”

“I should be.” There’s a painful sort of truth to John’s answer. “But I’m not. Call me crazy or something, but I’m just worried about him.” John sucks in a shuddering breath, lips pursing for a short moment. “I think… I love him.”

“Love makes you do barmy things, I suppose.” Your tone is light, uplifting, you hope. John appears to be struggling with his inner turmoil, so you try to lighten the weight of the situation somewhat. “You know, when this whole shebang started, I had set out to possibly kill those troublesome brothers. And then all sorts of shenanigans happened, and now look at me. Why, I’m absolutely smitten with one of them.” You give a short bark of a laugh. “Positively seduced, one might even say.”

“There’s a certain charm about them.” John’s tone takes on a slight playful edge. You spare his another quick glance and spot a smirk edging at his lips.

“Isn’t that an understatement?” Your own lips spread into a grin. City lights loom overhead, casting an occasional orange glow over the shadows of your vehicle as you near the parking area nestled next to the apartment complex. “I feel like this car ride was both terribly long and awfully short.”

John nods, though he seems to have slipped back into his reluct silence again.

You find a suitable parking space, and soon it's just the two of you sitting in silence, staring ahead into the darkness of the parking lot. “Are you ready?” You ask, knowing full well that you’re not.

“As ready as I can be, I guess.”

“Let’s get this over with, then, shall we?”

* * *

**== > Meet with Dirk**

The Strider household is exactly how you remember it. Mostly white walls and light furniture, with technology and knickknacks spread everywhere. Though, the end table is now missing a leg and you notice a sizeable crack in one of the walls adjacent to it.

And Dirk… Though it seems to have healed already somewhat, his face is marred with bruises resting underneath his eyes. His nose seems to be red, as if someone had decked him right in the face. You recognize a good punch when you see one, and whoever hit him must have really given him a whopper.

“Dirk, are you-” The words are out of your mouth immediately, but he’s holding up his hand, silencing you.

“I’ll tell you later.” He’s also missing his shades, tangerine eyes laid bare in an unusual showing. Those eyes flit over to John, who seems to be shifting nervously. “You okay?”

John jumps at the question, surprise evident in his eyes. One of his hands comes up to rub at his forearm. “Yeah, I-I’m fine.” His eyes gaze about the room, anywhere that isn’t Dirk. “Where is he?”

Dirk points over his shoulder, down the hallway to where you remember seeing Dave pop out from. His room, you assume. “Have him holed up in there. Convinced him to keep the door unlocked. You wanna go in and try to talk to him? Because he ain’t having anymore from me. He made that much clear.”  

John steps closer to the hallway, hesitantly. He peers down the long corridor, feet carrying him with uncertainty towards it. “Which door?” His voice is quiet, almost a murmur.

“First one on the left. Don’t knock. Just walk in. Better if he doesn’t know it’s you right away.” Dirk points the way for John, and you see your cousin disappear around the corner. Your skin itches with the desire to follow, to watch him like a hawk, to give Dave Strider at taste of his own medicine. But you hold steady, fighting down all your protective urges in place of staying with Dirk.

“Will he be safe?” You whisper the question, and you’re not sure why.

Dirk nods, breathing out a sigh that speaks volumes about his current disposition. “Yeah. Lil’ bro is sated about two-fold right now. Took way more blood than he should have.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” The words aren’t meant to harm, but you see Dirk shoot you an apologetic look. “I merely meant that I saw the damage done.”

“No, you’re right.” The elder Strider pinches the bridge of his injured nose, and plops down on the couch, leaning forward so that one of his arms rests on his knee. “You’re right, and it’s fucked up. This was never supposed to happen.” Dirk shakes his head, scowling out another curse. “God, I’m sorry.”

Tentatively, you walk around the damaged table and take a seat next to him. Dirk’s whole body seems to be tensed with stress, and the realization that he’s just as tore up about the current events as you has you turning cold with regret. You shouldn’t have thought so poorly of him. “It’s okay.” You offer, gently. You place your hand on his shoulder, hoping the gesture soothes him a little.

Dirk turns his tired eyes to you. Which is strange, because you don’t think you've ever seen him look so exhausted before. “It’s not, though. Dave was here, I was talking to him before he left, I knew- And I didn’t go after him. I let him go, knowing full well how dangerous he was.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known what he’d do. You can’t blame yourself for that, Strider.”

Dirk’s expression remains contrite. “I knew what he’d do. I just… I never assumed he’d go to him of all people. I thought Dave was more in control of himself than that.” An exasperated groan escapes him. “I can deal with complete strangers, but I can’t deal with this shit.”

Daringly, you decide to rest your head against Dirk’s shoulder. He turns to look at you with guilt-ridden eyes, and you offer him a forgiving smile in return. “The fact of the matter is that John is okay. So no harm, no foul, right?”

Dirk appears to go to speak, before stopping momentarily, a look of confusion crossing his face. “How exactly was he okay? I didn’t even see or smell the bite mark.”

That… has your own expression screwing up with uncertainty. “I’m… not exactly sure? It’s almost like the same incident from the alley. I just sort of-” You make a wooshing sound, mimicking a small explosion with your hands for added effect. “And then he was perfectly healthy. It was as if the wound had never been inflicted.”

“Jake, that’s not normal.”

You roll your eyes at that one. “You’re telling me, Strider.”

“No, really.” Dirk inclines his head, bumping the top of yours with his. “There’ some weird fuckery going on with you. Not human fuckery, either. Supernatural shit. Dean and Sam Winchester and their man-servant-angel-thing Castiel supernatural stuff.” You spare him an amused laugh at that. Oh, you love Supernatural. At least, up until the fifth season. It tends to go downhill after that. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“Neither have I.” Of course you haven’t. Not once from your grandfather or any of the books you read have you heard mention of anything like the strange magic you’d exhibited twice fold. “Dirk, are there divine beings out there? Do you think I’m like this weird chosen prophet thing? Because I’m not sure I’m quite up to those standards, if I’m being quite honest.”

“Haven’t been mention of anything like that for thousands of years. Think the last ever instance of Prospitans occurred back in the era when the Condesce first began her rule. They just all sort of disappeared and there hasn’t really been a divine source since. So no, I don’t think so.”

You’d meant the expression as a joke, but Dirk’s words have you perking with interest. “Prospitans? What in blazes is that?”

“Opposite of Dersites, or demons as you guys call it.” Dirk bridges his hands underneath his chin. “Not really worth talking about, to be honest. Remember all that trash about Lord English? They’re kind of like that. Just stories you hear from time to time. No real substance to them. No actual proof they ever existed, and I doubt the Condesce would talk about them willingly, if they were real to begin with.”

“Your kind has all these myths and legends. It’s quite surreal, I must say.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I suppose it has a lot to do with the fact that your existence is a myth in itself in our world. Myth-ception, one might say.”

“Don’t ever say that again.” Dirk warns, playfully. “Guess it’s just a waiting game now to see how all this turns out.”

Without much thought, you take to tracing your finger along the curves of Dirk’s forearm, admiring how they contour and change with his stringy muscles. “That, you’re right about.” Your finger grazes from his arm to his nose, where you gently slide it along the edges of the bruising there. “Will this heal alright?”

“Give it a few more hours, and it’ll be gone.” He catches your hand, and presses his lips against the inside of your wrist.

The gesture has goosebumps rising on your flesh, but there’s something undeniably thrilling about it. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Me either,” He mumbles against your skin. “But that just means it’ll always be interesting.”

* * *

**== > Be John**

Despite the sparse amount of times you’ve managed to convince Dave to let you come here, this is the first time you’ve ever seen his room. It’s everything you imagined, really. A true reflection of the person living inside of it.

Music equipment takes up most of the space here, with photos, particularly polaroids, catching your attention next. Draped from lines hung from one wall to another, they’re all clipped on with small clothespins, some old and worn while others look much newer.

Some clothes are strewn on the floor, but not much. It’s not extremely messy, per se, a small universal constant that seems to be apparent with those of your age. You notice a few containers littering the desk where his computer sits, a beautiful looking katana resting on an intricate display over his bed, and bedsheets that are patterned with the suits often seen on cards.

Resting on those sheets is Dave, body curled into itself, covers half tossed over his body. Fresh stains of blood - your blood - stain his clothing, painting his shirt collar dark red. Around his mouth is dried blood, barely beginning to flake off. You notice that his skin seems much more vibrant, less translucent, more healthy. His hair is back to its almost white shade of blonde, and shiny.

Above all, his crimson eyes, deep and beautiful and oh so striking compared to their dull glare from earlier, are staring at you. And they are _horrified_.

Dave seems to be absolutely frozen in place, eerily still, not even the rising of his chest occurring. Was he even breathing? You doubt he was. Despite all this, you take a step forward, urging the rising apprehension in you to stay down. You can do this. You have to do this. Not just for you, but him. “Dave?”

Dave seems to restart at the sound of your voice. You see his chest rising and falling rapidly, sucking in breaths that are too shallow and too short. He shakes his head at you, though the movement is halved somewhat from his resting position on the bed. You understand what he’s trying to tell you, though: no.

You won’t have any of it though. You’d been holding back the questions, the intense urge to understand just exactly what the hell was going on, the entire way here. Now that you’re here, with Dave in front of you, with your blood still staining his chin and neck, you can’t wait any longer. You surge forward, ignoring the way Dave seems to jump at the motion, and seat yourself on the edge of his bed.

“Dave,” His name is quiet on your breath, and you hate how you see his teeth clench at it. “Dave, it’s okay…”

That wrings a few words out of him. “No, John, it’s not.”

“It is-”

“I almost killed you.” His voice cracks, painfully. You’ve never heard Dave’s voice ever do that. It feels like an icicle digging into your ribs. “There’s no changing that. You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.”

He turns over, pulling the covers up and over his head so that you can’t see him anymore. The pressure building in your chest has you so reluctant to do anything, but you pointedly ignore it in favor of placing your hand against his side. Dave tenses under your touch. “I’m not leaving. I’m going to stay right here with you. Until I know that you feel better.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He whispers, the sound muffled by the covers. “Do you have any common sense?” Dave curls just a bit more in on himself. “Didn’t you see the blood on me? That’s yours. I did that.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” There is a little ball of fear settled in your gut, but it’s not directed at Dave. “I know you didn’t mean it. You seem better now. That wasn’t really you who did that.”

Dave makes a motion, like he’s trying to shift your hand off of his side. You don’t let him do it so easily, opting to just outright lay down next to his and wrap an arm around his middle. He goes deathly still at that. “John, please don’t-

“Hush, you.” You chide him, almost like a child. “I’m going to cuddle the shit out of you and we’re going to have a nice conversation about all of this. And when we’re done, we’re going to go back to being boyfriends and everything is going to be okay.”

He’s silent for a long while after that, and you’re okay with it. As long as he isn’t pushing you away. But then he’s sighing out, wearily, “You’re so goddamn stubborn.”

“I have my nice qualities.” You manage to smirk, appreciative of the fact that he seems less uptight now. “So tell me what happened. And don’t try to talk your way out of this one, because I’m going to keep at it until you crack and there’s nothing you can do to derail me from this.”

“How about that new Ghostbusters?” Dave asks weakly, and you roll your eyes.

“Seriously, Dave. I’ll wait here all night if I have to.”

Another long drag of silence drifts by. It’s many minutes later that Dave’s voice interrupts that silence, unwillingness still evident in his tone. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re a demon.” You correct him, not liking the word choice he used. “Jake told me that much. And you need blood to live.”

“Just a little.” He admits. “But not as much as I took from you. Not like that… That was never supposed to happen. Not to you. Not to anyone.” Dave pulls the covers down from his head, hair disheveled by the movement, though still beautifully vibrant. You’re still in awe at the difference, the sickly image of him from earlier seeming like a fever dream in retrospect.

“I figured.” You bring your hand up to card through his hair, and find that it’s unbelievably soft. “I know you didn’t mean it.” You repeat the words again, hoping that he understands your forgiveness. “And I want you to know that I’m willing to listen and understand.”

Dave scoffs, as though the notion offends him. “What is there to understand, John? That I couldn’t take care of a simple need? That I did the stupidest shit imaginable, and ended up hurting someone important to me because of it? _I almost killed you_. You’d lost so much blood, and I just- I was sick with myself, I couldn’t stand it. I thought you were dead.” He pauses. Then his next words come out on a shaky breath. “How are you even alive right now?”

“Jake saved me.” You admit, still perplexed with that whole situation yourself. “I don’t know how, but he did.” You squeeze Dave a bit more, hugging him closer to you. He doesn’t resist, “Hey, look at me.”

Dave shakes his head, remaining quiet. Your urge him once more, sliding a finger under his chin to direct his gaze at you. He seems to give in easily, eventually turning his whole body so that he’s facing you rather than facing away. You offer him a soft smile for his cooperation.

One of Dave’s hands comes up to rub at the dried blood on his face. He seems to be ashamed, eyes lingering on yours for only a moment before shifting away. “I forgot to clean up.”

“That’s understandable.” You figure he had more important issues at the time anyway. “So… tell me about yourself. What’s it like? I want to know everything.”

Dave doesn’t answer right away. But he seems thoughtful, so you let his take as much time as he needs. He eventually does answer your question. “Demons. We’re- I don’t know. Diverse. My brother and I, we need blood to live. And we have a couple of ways of going about it.” Dave brings a hand up to cup the side of your neck, where the bite wound should have been. You cover his hand with your own. “We have these things called glamours. It’s something we can do with our eyes, and it basically turns anyone that looks into them into puddy in our hands.”

You put two and two together. “That’s why you always kept them covered around me.”

Dave nods, “I didn’t want to accidentally do it to you. Because, you know… You were important. And your autonomy mattered.” Dave closes his eyes, and draws in a deep breath before continuing. “We have to feed every so often. A week without blood is considered the max before the hunger starts becoming a serious issue.” He bites his lip, seeming reluctant to continue. But he does regardless. “Two weeks. That’s how long it’d been for me.”

“Why though?” You ask, curious as to why Dave had let his needs go unchecked for so long.

He opens his eyes again, and they’re serious, and gosh, you really can’t get over finally being able to see them. They really are tantalizing. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it was you.” Oh. Well, then. “I just… couldn’t fathom it anymore. Got so used to doing it for centuries without really questioning it, but then it just- It became disgusting to me. Because I kept thinking about you the entire time. I just wasn’t able to feed.”

A valid reason, you decide. But still, the prospect of Dave literally starving himself because of you still doesn’t leave a pleasant taste in your mouth. “Do you kill them?” It’s a question you sorely need an answer for. Because at the end of the day, human lives still matter more than anything.

“No, never. None of us do. Except for, well, _those assholes_ , but never the sane ones.” Dave’s hand drifts from your neck and into your wild array of hair. His skin is chilling to the touch, as always. “They never remember. It’s like a blip in their memory. Another good time with a stranger. They’re never seriously hurt by it. Like donating blood. They’re fine the next day.”

“Then feed.” Your retort is blunt, simple. “Take care of yourself and don’t think that I’ll hate you for it. Because I don’t. I-” Oh god, here it comes, those words that’d always made your guts twist up into knots and your tongue feel like it was too big in your mouth. “I, uhh…” Shit, shit, shit.

You’re not the one to say it. “I love you.” Dave mumbles, burying his head against your chest so that he doesn’t have to look at you. It feels as though the air has been sucked out of the room, and subsequently, your lungs. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.” His voice cracks again, a weak echo of his usual tenor.

“Me too.” You blurt out, clumsily. “I mean, yeah, same. I mean-” You make a frustrated noise, so utterly done with how much your words are catching on themselves. “I love you. Too. I do.”

“Smooth.” Dave mutters, voice muffled by your clothing. You can almost make out the feel of his lips against your skin, and you swear you feel one side tug into a smirk.  

“I am the smoothest.” You shoot back, knowing full well that you aren’t. “Are we done talking about this? Because I could sleep. Can you sleep?”

“Not normally.” Dave answers, but he curves an arm around your waist regardless. “But for you, I can.”

Both of your legs intertwine with each other, a familiar and welcome feeling amongst all the chaos that seems to have occurred in such a short time frame. You imagine that tomorrow will be a strange, new day. A new beginning for the two of you. But you thank the stars that things have somehow been resolved for the most part.

There’s still so many questions, so much you want to know. About Dave. About Jake. About everything. You thought you had so much stuff figured out, when really, you barely grazed the surface. And your family… So much stuff you had no idea about. You wonder if there’s any more people like Jade and Jake in your lineage.

Questions for the future, though.

* * *

**== > Be Jake**

“It’s been an hour.” You sigh out, fully lounging across the couch with your head resting on Dirk’s lap. At one point, he’d turned on the television to drown out the persisting silence with, but you doubt he was watching. You weren’t really paying attention yourself, anxiety eating away at you like a rabid animal.

“That it has.” He agrees, tapping the hand that isn’t stroking your hair against the arm support of the sofa. “Figure we should go check on them?”

“Might be an ace idea, if I had to say.” So you gather yourself from Dirk’s lap and the couch itself, stretching upwards and hearing your joints pop with the motion. You’re so wiped from tonight, so utterly ready for bed. Even now, your eyes are fighting to stay open.

It’s been a long, hard day.

The two of you drift down the hallway, as quietly as you can. Your own footfalls are tiny taps against the wooden floor, but Dirk moves in complete silence, as if floating instead of walking. It almost makes you jealous how graceful he is. Stupid demons and their stupid supernatural elegance.

Dirk stops just outside of Dave’s door, motioning for you to be completely silent as he edges it open ever so slowly. He peeks through the crack, only for a short moment, before he’s pulling away and shooting you a smirk.

You send him a confused look, shrugging to let him know that you don’t know what’s going on. He motions you over, urging you to remain silent, and backs away so you can peek inside the room yourself.

From the tiny slit in the door, you can faintly make out the shape of John and Dave lying in bed, tangled up with each other and very much asleep. Even Dave seems to be out, and not that pseudo-sleep thing that Dirk did with you. He seems to be genuinely asleep, breathing deep and mimicking John’s own pattern.

You carefully pull the door shut, and step away with a relieved exhale. You have absolutely no idea what happened between John and Dave, but it seems as though things have been glossed over smoothly.

You turn your tired eyes to Dirk, and find that he’s drifted a bit further down the hallway towards his room. He motions for you to come with him, opting to speak only when out of range of Dave’s door. “Looks like they handled things fine.”

“Thank the heavens for that.” You whisper back, aware that your own tone is a little more harsh than Dirk’s gentle whisper. It’s hard to emulate that which cannot be emulated. “I’m wiped, Strider. Do you figure we could follow suit?”

Dirk quietly twists the handle of his room’s doorknob, giving the door a light push so it swings open. “Bedroom is open anytime for you, English.”

“Oh, haha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder to give [It Matters Not To Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4228788/chapters/9564255) a read. There's been a new chapter released, and I'd love to see that story get lots of love. I'm a huge fan of it!


	14. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Harlenglishes and Dirk relax. John asks Dave for something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for those of you curious, I've began publishing a few lore posts over on my Tumblr in regards to this story. The first post covers Dirk and Dave and what kind of demons they are. If you're interested in reading it, direct your [attention here](http://destineytots.tumblr.com/post/144894884374/more-common-misconceptions-lore-stuff)!
> 
> Also, if you're a fan of JohnDave, you'll like this chapter. ;)
> 
>  **EDIT:** This chapter now has some helpful art! Be warned though; the art isn't entirely 100% accurate to how the characters look. I drew it about a year and a half ago, but I still think it fits the mood.

**== > Be Rose**

The lead of your pencil drags slowly across the sheet of paper. Foreign strokes, symbols and images you’ve never seen outside of your visions, gradually take shape as you go on.

Your eyes, which seem to be unseeing, stare forward blankly. But behind your eyes lies the film grain memories of your nightmares and their ominous messages. Bright lights and crumbling buildings became the backdrop to an array of lines, punctuated with something that eerily resembled a written language, though you’ve never seen anything like it in your life. It was like looking through transparent paper, aware of the chaos taking place behind it, but the symbols glowed vividly, commanding your attention, as though trying to pass on an important message. 

Even the internet and all its brimming resources couldn’t give you an answer. You’d searched countless language databases, everything from Korean down to Arabic, and nothing yielded results. Nothing came close to the unique, sharp, almost guttural strokes those symbols yielded. No hieroglyphics nor cave carvings could match them either. There was genuine surprise there, and you found yourself mesmerized with how unique these symbols were, so different that nothing else came close to their visage. 

You did the only thing you thought you could do, and began replicating what you remembered from your dreams. No matter what time of the night they woke you, you’d immediately flick the light on at your desk and pull out a pad and pen. You let your memories guide you, hand acting as a rough translator, though your eyes didn’t linger on the paper. The drawings always came out scratchy, rough and uneven with all the strokes you give, yet the symbols lie there, crude replications that served as a source of reference. 

After a few days, you were able to compare what you’d written down and decipher a final, clean version of the verses you’d seen in your dreams. But that still didn’t answer any questions for you. The images remained infuriatingly void, lacking any real meaning or connotation to them without a definitive description.

Much to your surprise and slight relief, connotation did come in due time. But that momentary relief dissolved into utter confusion and worry when you realized what your dreams had revealed to you.

The figure of light that served as the last line of protection from the monster in your nightmares had chosen to turn to you tonight. As it did, the features of its face shockingly resembled one that you knew. The assuring, kind, and courageous smile that spread across its features spoke familiar volumes of the person wearing it. 

And those eyes… so vivid and green. Filled with hope and purity of both heart and mind. They only belonged to one person.

This time, when you awoke from your dream, it wasn’t with a sharp intake of breath or a sudden wrench from your bed. It was a calm, collected rise that had you sitting up in your abode, fingers relaxed against your sheets instead of gripping them tightly. Your face lacked the horrified expression it normally did, opting for an analytical, much calmer one. Despite the seemingly calm visage on your face, your heart still sank into your stomach, the unease making you swallow thickly as your mind worked through its usual motions. 

The dots slowly connected behind your eyes, the strange unfolding of events that had occurred as of late making more and more sense. Destiny, one might have called it. A call to arms for the person whose fate was to serve as humanity’s last protector from whatever threatened their home. A home that you happened to share with them. A home that would be snuffed out, crushed like an ant mound and blown to the wind once it was all said and done.

The realization made goosebumps rise on your arms. Awe, at the person who you’d never imagined would be thrust into such a bright spotlight. Terror, at the future that might come to unfold, an ill fear of what might happen to everyone you love if things go sour in the end. The image of the crumbling city seems like something straight out of your typical apocalyptic film. Yet, the fear you feel is very real, truly inspired. Because your visions have never lied to you. Why would they start now? 

Retrospect makes you want to laugh at yourself. Oh, how had a silly girl such as yourself come to be the prophet of what appeared to be the possible end for everything? Of course, you realize that you could be overstating the actual threat of whatever monster lingered in your dreams. But you’d like the assume the worst rather than bank on a hope that very well may be crushed to death.

Hope. Of course, the thing in your dreams- No, the person. Them. _Him_.

You’ll be paying Jake English a visit very soon, you decide.

* * *

**== > Be Jake**

Things, you decide, are going swimmingly these days.

These days being the three or so weeks that had passed since you almost lost your dear cousin. It kind of feels like a horrid nightmare to you, a brief lapse in reality that seems to have never actually happened. Though, the blood stains that lingered on your clothes for a while after persisted, a grim reminder that John actually had almost bled out in your arms.

This is the second time you’ve bleached them, and the barely there pink stains refuse to go away.

Honestly, you’re tired of looking at them, so you decide to take the articles of clothing out into your backyard and host a marshmallow roasting over them. You cleverly hide them with dry brush and dead leaves that are disappearing quite fast with the changing of seasons. The spider web canopy of trees are slowly beginning to regain their fresh, green bushes on them. Even the sun had decided to peek its head out more often, despite the vintage Washington rain clouds that love to persist, no matter what season it is.

It’s warm enough not to garner a thick jacket, though the breeze remains biting. So you settle for a thin sweater that looks like it’d fit more on John than you, and spend your evening hunched over the fire pit with a pack of graham crackers, a few bars of Hershey’s chocolate, and a bag of ultra large marshmallows posted at your side.

Only a few minutes pass before you hear the back patio door sliding open. You turn your head and spot Jade peeking her head out, a large smile plastered upon her face. You return it with gusto, calling out across the wide expanse of the back yard, “Why hello there, little sister of mine! Would you like to join me?” You lift the bag of marshmallows up for her to see. “Plenty of puffs left to roast, and I doubt I could muster the appetite to finish them all myself.”

Jade rolls her eyes at you, something she tends to do when any sort of words come out of your mouth. You know it's because your - ahem - _dated_ way of talking comes off as ridiculous to her. It doesn’t bother you, because pish posh, you like the way you talk!

“Count me in! I’ve been waiting for it to get warmer again so we could do this more.” Jade purses her lips, her features threatening to thread into a wider smile. She seems to peek back into the house, and there’s a distinct low murmur of something that has you turning fully in your seat. She soon turns back to you, opening the patio door just a bit wider. “And we also have company!”

The sliding door slides back enough to reveal Dirk standing there, smug expression right at home on his pale face. He’s dressed casually, in lighter layers, though you now know that the cold weather has no effect on him. It must be an effort to keep up appearances, you surmise. Today, however, he’s wearing a conforming graphic tee with long sleeves, and jeans that hug him generously.

Your immediate reaction is to smile, though surprise is also evident on your face. “Dirk! Have you been scandalizing my sister?” You laugh and motion for the both of them to join you near the fire pit. “Well, don’t just doze around. Plenty of room around the pit for more.” You pat a free spot next to you.

Though it’s not apparent, you’ve become accustomed enough to read Dirk’s body queues to know that he’s rolling his eyes at you. It seems like all your friends ever do anymore is that, and while the gesture is always friendly and lighthearted, it does make you wonder what makes them do it.

“Scandalizing?” Jade asks, as she closes the sliding door and crosses the backyard. “If by scandalizing, you mean schooling me in robotics. Why didn’t you ever tell me that he was so into engineering? We could have set up a triple date weeks ago!”

Robotics? Well, that’s certainly something you yourself were unaware of. “You dabble in that mechanical stuff, huh?” Your eyes never leave Dirk’s graceful form, even as he takes a seat right next to you, his thigh pressing up against yours. He nods, and sets to digging into the bags for his roasting material. “You’ve got a lot of hobbies, Strider. It often makes me wonder how you could possibly juggle so many things at once.”

Dirk’s mouth opens, a reply bubbling to the forefront, but then he cuts himself off. He turns his head fractionally towards Jade, a brief observation, and then back towards you, as if asking something quietly.

Jade seems to put two and two together before you can, and she breaks the sudden silence with a scoff. “You know, I think the cat is out of the bag by this point.” She points accusingly at Dirk, though there’s no malice there, just a firm expression on her face. “I know all about you, mister. And your demon-y powers too. I don’t need to be sheltered as much as Jake thinks I should be.” She pokes her tongue out at you, a true, rebellious act. You are scandalized. “So don’t hold anything back, you got it? I’m in on the whole thing, and I don’t want anyone pretending like I’m not.”

The silence turns into more of a stunned one, no words coming to form in your mouth. It isn’t until a laugh breaks its way free from Dirk that the silence is broken. He nudges your arm, and motions to Jade with his thumb. “She’s cool. I like her.”

You scoff at him, knocking his knee away with your own. Jade grins widely at that, all the while plopping a few marshmallows on a roasting stick. “You hear that? I think that’s approval.”

“Shame that the little bro went after the blue-eyed one. We could have had some hellacious double dates, English.” Dirk retaliates your little knee-knock by scooting even closer, so that the right side of his body is pressed flush against your left. He’s still busy with sticking the marshmallows onto his stick.

Jade laughs at that, until suddenly she’s not. Her chiming is cut off abruptly, realization crossing her face as she analyzes what just came out of Dirk’s mouth. You release a weary sigh, resting your head in your hands, fingers massaging the bridge of your nose. Dirk’s expression turns perplexed, as he looks between the both of you.

His sigh mimics yours. “Shit. You didn’t tell her yet.”

“Indeed I didn’t.”

“So you two are…” Jade trails off, canting her head to the side. Her lighter green eyes flit back and forth between you and Dirk, the marshmallow on her stick becoming alarmingly black as time goes on. You don’t have the gall to tell her that it’s about to turn into a ball of ash. “Together? Did I hear that right?” You hear Dirk sigh out a small ‘yeah’. You can feel your face turning warm in your hands. “Wow.”

“Is it weird to you?” Dirk asks, the question genuine and lacking any actual snark to it. “‘Cause I know your whole family was big on the anti-demon thing. Got enough of that shit while I was trying to befriend this knucklehead.”

“I mean… Oh- Oh no!” Jade realizes that her marshmallow has all but flaked off of her roasting stick, and makes a glum expression at its sticky remnants. She doesn’t mourn long, opting to reach into the bag for another one. “It’s… kind of weird? Like, I dunno.” She looks Dirk up and down. “I’ve heard some nice things about you though. And you seem kind of cool. Not… monster-y, I suppose? No weird eyes or claws or any of that stuff. You seem almost normal.”

“Well, you’re half right about that.” Dirk presses his fingers against the bottom of his shades, pushing the frames up into his hair so that his bright eyes are staring forward. You realize that he’s not staring at Jade, but rather at a spot past her. It brings you some comfort to know that he’s being so careful.

Jade blinks, once, twice. She remembers to pull her stick out of the fire this time, and slides the sticky marshmallow off of its resting spot and onto an awaiting graham cracker. “That’s your natural eye color? They’re so. Bright.”

“Yeah, they tend to do that. Now if you’re really interested in seeing some wild eyes, you should see my lil’ bro’s. Red as can fucking be. That, or TZ-”

You shoot Dirk a warning glance. “Absolutely not.”

His lips quirk into a sly smirk. “What? You can’t tell me that it wouldn’t be hella fun to drag her on a club run. Your sis seems like a carefree girl. I think she’d love my friends.”

“Ooh, clubbing! I’ve always wanted to try it out.” Jade pipes in, voice pitched with excitement.

“First of all, you’re underage and still in school, missy! Secondly, there’s no way I’m subjecting my sister to Terezi of all people!” You cross your arms, every bit of the responsible older brother figure you believe yourself to be.

“Yeah, you’re right. She’s underage. Okay, so scrap that.” Dirk finally extends his roasting stick overtop the fire, and you almost gawk at how many marshmallows he’s fitted onto the thing. It’s going to be a giant blob of sugar once he’s done with it. “Kinda sucks, to be honest. Was hoping I could set her up with Karkat. She seems like the kind of girl he needs in his life, y’know? Guy just got over a bad break up. Get him to cut loose a little, won’t put up with his bullshit. Could have played a killer matchmaker there.”

At the same time that Jade chimes in with, “Who’s Karkat?”, you’re adamantly shaking your head at Dirk.”I said it once, and I’ll say it again: absolutely not!”

Dirk holds up his free hand, “Alright, alright. It was mostly a joke. Mostly.” Dirk waits for his marshmallow cluster to turn a light brown, before pulling it back from the fire and sliding the monstrous glob of sweets onto a graham cracker that is way too small. By the time he’s done assembling his smores, it’s oozing chocolates and goop from every side. His fingers are positively covered in it, and there’s no indication that he gives a hoot as he takes a generous bite.

There’s no real reason for it, but your eyes remained glued to his fingers. Dirk seems to take notice, and makes a sinfully slow display of sucking the sticky remnants of marshmallow off of them, making your face and stomach flood with heat. You adamantly refuse to look at him after that, focusing just a bit too hard on your own roasting stick.

The three of you chatter for a long while, exchanging info back and forth, much to Jade’s excitement. She seems utterly thrilled to finally have all her questions answered, and she makes a point to hold nothing back. Even the more embarrassing queries.

“Fright Night.” Jade throws out, trying to find the right type of media to compare Dirk’s kind to.

“Not so much. Too ugly. But they definitely got the glamour thing going on.” Dirk is fully lounged into the patio chair, arms crossed over his stomach as the fire’s light plays on his face. The sun has began to set somewhat, casting almost comfortable shadows across the backyard. The warmth of the fire is pleasant against your slightly chilled skin.

“Ooh, okay. So… Interview With the Vampire?”

“Closer. Minus all drama and flamboyance and betrayal and random fires.” Dirk shoots a glance in your direction. You’d been quiet for a while, letting Jade and Dirk engage in their back and forth. Despite how awkward the notion still is to you, there’s something undeniably sweet about having your sister and boyfriend get along so well.

You opt to speak at that, “Add in unnecessary provocation and a tad more supernatural malarkey, and you’ve got the recipe for a grade-A prick.”

“Ouch. My heart. I am fatally wounded, English.” Dirk covers his chest with both hands, expression morphing into faux hurt. You pay it no mind, responding in kind with a teasing grin.

“For boyfriends, you two sure do go back and forth a lot. I don’t think I would have guessed otherwise.” Jade steeples her hands underneath her chin, having curled up in her own seat so that her legs draped over one of the chair’s arms.

“We merely keep each other on our toes.” You mimic Jade’s position, but make a point to shove your feet into Dirk’s side. He pretends not to notice, but he does restrain your ankles. “That, and I adamantly refuse to be one-upped by him.”

“Well then, you’re a sore loser, and you’re sorely losing.” Dirk pulls on your legs, sending you sliding down into your seat so that your head rests uncomfortably against the arm of it. You huff annoyedly, trying to kick away from him. It only sends the seat teetering and you nearly falling off from it, if it weren’t for Dirk catching your arms and pulling you into his seat at the last moment.

You flail weakly against him, no real fight given. It is a little embarrassing, you think, to be acting so intimately in front of your sister. Though, you’re sure your roughhousing is no different than the kind you shared with John whilst growing up in his household. It just holds an entirely different connotation to it with Dirk.

Jade finds it amusing though, her laugh filling the space of your dark backyard. “Well, at least you have someone to tussle with now. I thought you were going to go stir-crazy when we left John’s house.”

Dirk has you efficiently subdued in his lap, and while you’re a little prideful that you’re obviously bigger than he is and eclipse his smaller, lankier body, you still huff once more in bitter defeat. You cross your arms in a childish manner. “Not all that fair when he outclasses me tenfold with his freaky powers!”

Dirk’s arm are wrapped about you in a pseudo hug now, and he makes a show of nuzzling apologetically into your shoulder. “I’ll go easy on you next time.”

“Oh, buggar off!” Your voice raises in volume, but again, no struggle is given.

What was that saying again? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Jade retrieves her roasting stick and lays it in a pile with Dirk’s and your own. She raises from the patio chair, stretching out her long limbs and combing through her wild hair before letting her eyes settle on the both of you. “It’s been fun and educational guys, but I think I’m going to head in now. Thanks for stopping by Dirk! It was really nice to finally be able to talk to you.” She pauses, a mischievous look crossing her face. “And about that club offer-”

“Jade.” You warning is short.

“Just kidding! Gosh, just kidding... “ She cups one of her hands around her lips and mouths silently to Dirk, “Not really.” You can’t be bothered to call her out for it. You know it’s just her way of fooling around. “See you some other time, and Jake? Don’t stay out too much longer. You know how well you fare in the cold.”

As Jade is walking away, you call out to her, “Not my fault we went from a tropical island to temperate Washington!” Her response is a gentle laugh, and the sound of the sliding door being pulled shut. You mumble under your breath, “I didn’t ask for bloody rain and clouds.” You don’t have too much time to lament, however, as Dirk’s mouth settles against the warm skin of your neck. His chilled skin sends a shiver down your spine, and wrings a surprised noise from you.

“Chill, English.” He murmurs against your skin. Oh, haha. How ironic.

“Hard to do that when your mouth is upon me in that spot. Can’t help but associate a few certain shenanigans with it.” Your tone is teasing, but you encourage him by threading a hand into his platinum hair and pulling him closer. You feel his lips spread into a smile.

“What say you, English? Is that balcony door of yours unlocked?” Already, Dirk’s hand is teasing the hem of your shirt, porcelain nails tracing tempting patterns into your dark skin.

“Ten seconds after my sister leaves, and already you want to try and ravish me? Do you have no decency?” Your inviting simper contradicts your accusing tone.

“What can I say,” Dirk begins, pulling back just enough to plant a kiss on your lips. It’s agonizingly and wonderfully slow, and tender in ways that is still a bit foreign with him. “Smores just didn’t fill me up.”

“Surprising, considering you ate half of the blasted things yourself.”

Dirk draws back, lips spreading into a toothy smile, sharpened incisors gleaming proudly in the light of the dying fire. “Turns out I’ve only got an appetite for you right now.”

* * *

**== > Be John**

You can’t say that life is really back to normal. Because life isn’t really normal anymore, is it? There’s a whole world of monsters out there that exist, and you’ve only known this for three weeks now. You find yourself glancing around frantically in public, looking for any signs, any indicators to give them away.

Frighteningly enough, you do find some. And the tempting smiles they shoot back at you are suddenly way less innocent and way more sinister.

However, you try not to let it affect you. Dave told you that as long as you make an effort to stay away from them, they’ll leave you alone for the most part. It’s still a little unnerving, you think, to be surrounded by what is essentially humanity’s greatest predator. It doesn’t help matters that you are now vividly aware that you are the prey.

Sometimes you catch yourself rubbing at the spot on your neck, feeling for a wound that isn’t there anymore. Sometimes you find yourself zoning out for long periods of time, wondering just what the hell transpired that night. More often than not, you’re thinking about the weird thing that Jake did. Even though it’s all a blur in your mind, blood loss and adrenaline having blocked out most of the memory, you still understand that your cousin exhibited something really, really unusual and totally not normal by human standards.

You’ve tried to talk to him about it in the last few weeks or so. It seems that even he doesn’t know what’s going on with himself. In proper Jake fashion, he opted to just forget about it entirely, passing it off as some lucky miracle. Jake has a knack for ignoring things that aren’t always present.

Dave was extremely hesitant to resume the relationship the two of you shared. The first few days were the worst. Long, uncomfortably tense periods of silence were the norm. You could almost see the clockwork going on inside his head, the way he’d sit there and silently beat himself up. More often than not, you found yourself pulling him into one-sided hugs, no words spoken, but a silent way of telling him that everything is going to be alright.

More than anything though, you urged him to take care of himself. You could see the same pattern waiting to repeat, the reluctance to leave, the reluctance to do anything that pertained to his well being.

At one point, you’d even offered up your own blood, and the thinly veiled shock and anger that settled in his deep red eyes served to intimidate you a little. Dave adamantly refused to take anything from you, often mumbling about how he’d already screwed you up enough.

That was the final straw, you think. That was only after a week, and a week of watching him tear himself to pieces over the matter was enough to push you over the edge. Your words were unfiltered, harsh yet truthful, a stream of just how much you didn’t care that he fucked up spewing from your mouth. Brutal reassurances that you still love him, despite the circumstances. That you are John Egbert, and you don’t hold petty grudges and you’re not afraid of anything when it comes to the people that you cherish. And Dave Strider was now one of those people, and you’d be damned if he stayed holed up in his figurative shell, burning himself alive over the matter.

You’d pressed forceful kisses to him, despite his protests, comforting pecks punctuated with comforting whispers. Playful threats of increasing your almost parental doting if he didn’t start taking care of himself soon. You’d managed to wring a few reluctant laughs and choked noises of amusement from him, which was better than his silent moping.

You figure that Dirk must have been pestering him as well, because by the end of that particular day, he’d finally agreed to take care of his hunger. You made him promise that he’d come back to you after that, that he wouldn’t disappear back to his apartment.

Fast forward to the present, and it’s now the beginning of March. Dave seems to have fallen back into his normal persona, save for a few lapses here and there. The drama and tense atmosphere left by his accident has melted away somewhat. You’re starting to feel like a teenager again, and less like the unfortunate lead role in a horror/romance film.

You find that along with your sense of normality, your libido has also returned. And it’s brought along with it some very risque thoughts and memories. One of them being an almost morbid desire to feel Dave’s teeth sinking into you again. Because out of all the murky memories you’d retained from that incident, you distinctly remember the almost euphoric way his bite had made you feel.

Nevermind the fact that your throat had almost been torn out.

Like an artificially induced orgasm, you wonder how it could be paired with other things to make it more enjoyable. You’re not going to lie. You’re equal parts ashamed and just a little horrified at yourself. Curse awkward teenage hormones.

Of all the times, this probably isn’t the best to be asking him about this kind of stuff. You’ve heard the saying a hundred times before: curiosity killed the cat. But you feel like your curiosity is going to be the end of you if you can’t at least have some questions answered on the matter.

“Dave?” Hesitantly. He looks up from his phone, shades perched over top the beanie he’s wearing today. His eyes seem to be staring at you, but not really. You can see that he’s focusing on something else. You’ve noticed that he never really makes eye contact with you.

“Sup, Egbert?” He discards his phone on the end table by the couch, opting to give you his full attention. The house is empty, as always, save for the two of you. The living room was laid bare to your whims.

“Do you mind if I ask some questions? About-” You motion to him, though it’s incredibly vague and doesn’t reflect what you really want to ask. “Personal things, you know. Like-” You point to your mouth, and realization becomes apparent on Dave’s face.

He seems hesitant at first, lips pursed and brows furrowing slightly. It’s still a touchy subject, and you feel like an insensitive asshole breaching the subject but- Urgh. You’re just so curious. Just as you’re about to rescind the question, Dave is speaking before you. “Sure. What- Uh, what do you want to know about it?”

“Oh.” Well, mark yourself as surprised. You weren’t entirely sure Dave would go along with it. In fact, you were mostly expecting him to shoot the question down. You decide to scoot closer to him, opting to rest your chin on his shoulder. He bumps the top of your head with his temple, the affectionate gesture making you smile. “Is this okay?” You can’t help but ask.

There’s a barely there sigh, an emphatic effort on his part. “Can’t really ignore this shit for the rest of time, I guess. Gonna talk about it sooner than later. So yeah. S’fine.”

You spare Dave an apologetic glance, hoping he understands that it’s not your intent to make him feel uncomfortable. “I love you, you know?” The words still feel fresh and heavy in your mouth, a weight on your tongue, but a good one. Words you feel like you should have said a while ago, but you just weren’t ready. They feel natural now.

Dave smirks at that. “I know. You too.”

“So, about your teeth. Or… Are they fangs?” You poke his bottom lip gently, and Dave pretends as though he’s about to bite your finger. You draw it back with a short bark of a laugh.

It seems to help lighten the mood somewhat. “Kind of. A little bit of both.” He open his mouth enough for you to see, and for the first time, you’re able to notice how his canines seem a little sharper than the rest. Not ridiculously long, like in all those vampire movies, but subtle, little sharpened points. He points to the two or so teeth surrounding them. “These dig in, too. The sharp ones are just for breaking the skin. Helps us get started, you know?”

“How the hell did I never notice these?” You mumble out quietly. The question is mostly directed towards yourself, but Dave answers regardless.

“You’re not supposed to. That’s the whole point. At least, not until the last second.” Dave traces the outline of one of his canines with his forefinger. A part of you realizes that there’s something undeniably attractive about it.

“We’ve made out so much, though. You’d think…” You’d think you would have felt them at one point or he would have nicked you with them. But not once did you ever feel their sharp points.

“Careful positioning on my part. You get pretty good at it over the years.” Dave’s expression turns conceited at that.

You can’t hold back the thought that comes with that. “Just how many people have you made out with?”

If Dave was smug before, now his expression was just outright cocky. “Too many to keep count of, Egbert. I am the fucking kissing casanova.”

“I bet.” You can’t really argue with him, but it’s fun to challenge Dave when the opportunity presents itself. However, you’ve got more questions, and as much as you miss trading blows with him, it’ll have to wait until later. “How does it work though? The biting part.”

At that, Dave goes silent for a bit. He seems to mull something over in his mind, an obvious train of thought taking place as you wait. “What makes you ask?” Oh lord, he’s caught on.

“Just-” Oh boy, how do you pass this one off as innocent? Simple answer: you can’t. “I remember some things from that night,” Dave visibly flinches at the mention of it, and oh no, you don’t need him feeling bad over it right now. “And it’s got me wondering. Like,” Oh boy, here goes nothing. “Why did it… feel so good?”

Dave’s expression turns skeptical. You shrug, feeling it to be the only acceptable thing to do right now. He continues staring at you. Or rather, past you. “Of all the fucked up things to ask, you’re wondering why it got you off?”

You make a disconcerted noise, and bury your face into his shoulder. “You’re right, this is weird. I shouldn’t be asking this. Man, what the heck is wrong with me?”

Dave drapes an arm around your shoulder, giving you a tight squeeze. “I mean, is it a weird question? Hell yeah. Should you be asking it? I dunno.” Dave urges you to look at him, and the burn you feel on your cheeks must be apparent, because he’s got a teasing smile on his face. “What’s got you wondering about it, huh?”

“Ugh, fuck.” It’s muttered quietly, roughly under your breath. You thread a hand into Dave’s hair, knocking off his beanie, and drag him down into an abrupt, messy kiss. He seems genuinely surprised at the motion, but quickly reciprocates, the hand that isn’t draped around your shoulder coming to cup your face. You don’t know why you’re doing this; to deflect his question, to give your rising libido some relief, to finally be able to indulge yourself of this after all those weeks of careful tiptoeing around him.

You think you know the answer, and you vehemently push down the rising chagrin that’s festering in your stomach right now. All you know for sure is that you’re glad Dave is finally regaining some of his self-worth, you’re happy that the two of you are still together despite everything, and you want him to make you come harder than you’ve ever came before.

You’re in the middle of biting his bottom lip none too gently when you pull away, tugging his lip with you until it slides free from your teeth. Dave’s mouth is damp from your kiss, lips parted invitingly, tongue poking out to run over the spot where you’d bitten him. The opportunity is right there, waiting, and you can’t help but try to capitalize on it. “An eye for an eye, Dave.”

“Are you fucking serious.” It’s whispered quietly, but with no real venom to it. Dave’s eyes finally settle on yours - truly, and without the illusion that he’s looking past you - and in them you can see barely restrained hunger.

He grabs your arms, pulling you unceremoniously into his lap. You scramble to right yourself, to straddle his thighs and press yourself snuggly against his front. Already, you can feel yourself becoming hard at the mere prospect of things, cock throbbing every few seconds with arousal, lust settling into your veins like a warm, thick blanket. You surge forward, capture his lips in yet another messy parody of a kiss. Your tongue slides wetly against his lips, dipping past them to tease at his own, to lick and taste at his mouth hungrily.

You’d always wondered why everything about Dave was so cool, so chilling to the touch. Even his tongue is an icy contrast to your hot one. There’s something about the way he tastes that’s so different from anyone else you’ve ever kissed. Sweet on your tongue, refreshing to the senses. Unnatural and yet so tantalizing and satisfying.

Without thinking, you trace the outline of one of his canines with your tongue, and feel a small sting as you do so. It has Dave drawing in a gasp and pulling back, his hands gripping your hips tightly. The taste of iron fills your mouth, and the texture of blood on your lips is quite noticeable.

Dave’s eyes are wide, alarmed, uncertainty evident in their depths. Despite all this, his tongue flicks out to lick his lips, wiping away any trace of blood, claiming it for his own. Never in a million years would you have ever imagined that such a carnal display would be so alluring, and yet here you are, cock fully hard in your pants, hips moving forward ever so slightly in an attempt to gain friction against something.

“John-” Your name is a desperate plea. For what? You’re not sure. If Dave wishes to stop, then he’s not making it very evident. Rather, his actions are suggesting otherwise. The way his hands are tugging at your hips, urging you to rub yourself against his front, and his breaths are coming quick and excited suggests that he wants to go on.

Despite what you may think, you decide that being careful is better than assuming anything. “It’s okay. I want this. I want you to-” Dave presses the palm of his hand against your clothed cock, grinds it against where the head should be, and it has you gasping out a moan and thrusting into his hand. You let loose a breathy laugh. “Just fuck me up.”

“Oh, I will.” He grabs at the collar of your shirt, and tugs viciously. Instead of pulling it down, the fabric splits under his nails, tearing away and revealing dark skin underneath. You’re silently glad that it’s just a plain house shirt and not one of your nicer ones. If it’d been the vintage Ghostbusters shirt, you might have to stop things and berate him for destroying something so priceless.

But as things go, it makes you whimper wantonly, because holy shit, Dave is so strong and deadly and could seriously hurt you, but the fact that he refuses to is getting you off and you’re pretty sure that’s not normal, but you could not give a fuck right now.

He latches onto your neck, sucking bruises into it and soothing them with long laps of his tongue. His saliva is cold against your heated skin and makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him forward, urging him to dig in, to break your skin and have you writhing against him helplessly.

You want it. Oh god, you want it so bad.

His teeth sink in abruptly, without warning. You choke out a small cry, the sting making tears pricks at your eyes. The uncomfortable pressure of his teeth sinking in deeper has you digging your nails into his back, denting both his clothing and skin with nail marks. You almost find yourself wanting to tell him to stop, that it’s too painful.

Dave moans against your skin, hugs you so tightly against him that you feel as though you can’t breath. One of his hands slides up into your hair, tangling ebony locks around his fingers. He still urges you to rut against him, and responds in kind, thrusting up every so often to meet you halfway. It’s a blinding contrast to the pain you’re feeling at the moment, and has you reeling.

The feel of your own blood dripping down your shoulder and collarbones is both unsettling and exciting. The sensation of Dave sucking hungrily at the bite wound intensifies the sting, but reinforces how intimate the gesture is. You bite your bottom lip and will any complaints or wishes to stop away, trying to persevere as long as you can. Because you know what’s soon to come, and you want it. Badly.

When it hits, it hits hard, and it snakes its way through your blood lightning fast. The pain takes a sharp turn, the sting of his teeth turning into an intense, delightful feeling. It runs down your back, settles in your groin, make your cock thrum with stimulation. Your head falls back of its own accord, your lips parting in a sharp cry, though this one is purely out of pleasure.

Feverishly, you rut against him, rubbing your cock against his clothed stomach, feeling the material of your pants becoming damp with precome. You can feel the outline of Dave’s own dick rubbing against your bottom, and the realization that he’s getting off on this as much as you are has you panting out his name.

Your vision slowly goes blurry, the room softening at the edges, the lights becoming a bit too bright. You feel pleasantly dizzy, your fingers and toes going numb, your thoughts fizzling out into static. It’s a terrifying, carnal feeling, to be giving into your instincts so much, to be throwing caution to the wind, to be entrusting so much with one person. Knowing that they could very well drink you dry right now inspires pure terror.

The realization that they would never do that to you overpowers all of it though. You feel loved, upheld. You think of this as the ultimate bonding, giving yourself so fully unto the other. Letting Dave feed from the very thing that gives you life has your heart thumping wildly, out of love, out of arousal.

If you ever had to choose how you die, you think this would be your choice. Let him have all of you. You’ll go gladly.

Idly, you realize that an array of different noises have been spilling from your lips. Everything from long, drawn out moans, to quick and sharp whimpers with each thrust you give and he gives in return. Dave has pulled his teeth free from you, and you had barely realized it. He’s busied himself with lapping at the wound, licking up fresh streams of blood that still seep from it.

Whatever was in his bite, it’s still taking full effect on your body. It has you twitching every so often, trembling with pleasure so intense, you wonder how your senses can register all of it. It’s all-consuming, eating you alive, making the world fade out in favor of how much you’re aching with delight. Dave’s name is a broken mantra on your breath, a single syllable set to repeat as you rut and rub against him, making that wonderful pressure on your cock build and build until you think you can’t take it anymore.

Even Dave is breathing out a mess of moans and garbled words, thrusting harder against you, making your body jerk with the motion. He’s hugging you like you’re his life preserver in an endless, unforgiving ocean, his voice raising in pitch as the moments drag on.

All of it culminates into a sharp cry, deafening to your own ears. Your voice gets hung up, choking on breaths that seem too shallow, your body unsure of how to respond in kind. You think you might be writhing, and you’re pretty sure you are, with how Dave seems to restrain your body against his.

His lips are at your ear, his breath ragged and breathless as he whispers, “Shhhh, John. John.” His hand cards through your hair, soothingly. Your body still convulses, your words nonsensical and your senses way too overloaded. Overstimulated, you think. It’s too much, too much. It’s wonderful and awful at the same time, and you love it. “Let it happen. Don’t fight, just let it happen.”

Somehow, you follow his words. You untense all your muscles as best as you can, try not to dig your feet into the couch, incline your head forward to rest against his shoulder. Your whole body shudders, shakes with an orgasm so intense, you wonder how you’re still together. You feel tears gathering at your eyes, the emotions and sensations so severe that you feel utterly overwhelmed by them.

It’s like all the pressure leaves your body in one big gust, leaving you feeling pleasantly weightless and so fatigued, you feel as though you could pass out on the spot. The front of your pants is wet with come and sticky on the inside, but you don’t care, not in the least. Dave presses a kiss to your temple, which is damp with sweat, and the coolness of his lips is a welcome feeling against your feverish body.

His name comes out on a broken sigh, “Dave…” You slump against him, weakly draping your arms around his shoulders. Your mind is still reeling from everything, still clouded with euphoria and an orgasm unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You mumble out his name again, pressing your temple against his shoulder, and letting your eyes fall closed. “Dave…”

“You okay?” Though not nearly as wiped as you, his voice is breathless, wispy. It’s a strangely comforting sound, you think. Pleasant to your ears, like being let down easy.

You nod against him, your sweat-slicked skin rubbing against his neck. You don’t remember hearing Dave come, and the thought has your lips twisting into a frown. You’re so utterly exhausted, but you’ll be damned if he doesn’t get his own release. “Did you-”

“Yeah.” He laughs, quietly. “I did. It was damn good, too.” Oh. That has relief washing over you, because you’re not sure you could have made it very good in your current state. You’re a bit embarrassed that you were so loud in comparison, but you doubt Dave was experiencing the same level of sensations you were.

“Sorry.” You feel like you should say it. Literally three weeks after a life and death situation centered around the same thing that just happened, and you have him repeating the motions, knowing full well that it’s probably a giant sore spot for him. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

“Probably not, but it worked out alright. Right?” Dave urges you back, enough to meet your eyes once more. Your lashes still feel damp, and it’s a surreal feeling to know that the orgasm he wrung out of you inspired tears. “Maybe it’s a good thing, y’know? Prove to myself I can do this shit without hurting you.”

“I was never scared that you would.” It’s true. Not once did you feel like your life was in danger. Some silly part of you surmises that your entire family must be oblivious to danger. It’s the only explanation for why you and Jake seem to face it with no fear.

“I wouldn’t. Not purposefully. And…” He presses his forehead against yours, icy fingers tracing pleasant patterns on your heated cheek. “I’ll never take that chance with you again, man.”

“If that means you’ll take care of yourself, then good. So, this. This might be a normal thing for us?”

Dave shoots you a smirk. “Yeah. You think that was good? Try it with actual sex. It’s fucking killer.”

The mention of sex has your stomach doing small flipflops. You push down the nervousness by changing the topic. “Stuff to try later. I think… I need to lay down. Shower first. But then sleep. Sleep sounds really good right now.”

“That’s what they all say.”


	15. Shock and Awe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake, along with Rose, uncovers some incredibly unsettling information. Dirk is tasked with a special job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the two week delay. Updates are slowing down again, but at least they're happening. Gladly enough, my schedule with clear up a little more after the 20th of this month. My engineering stuff will be done with for the summer, so that means more free time. Hooray! Now, as always, enjoy the chapter! This one is very plot heavy.
> 
> **NOTE:** There's some fantasy language in this chapter, but translations can be seen if you hover over the text with your mouse! For those of you on mobile, translations will be made available in the chapter's end notes.

**== > Be Jake**

When you heard the doorbell buzzer ringing this morning, you weren’t exactly prepared for who stood on your front step. 

Firstly, you think it’s downright criminal for someone to be trying to get your attention at 9AM. You’d muttered a few strings of “how dare they” and “who has the gall” as you dragged yourself out of bed and down the hallway, with the annoying buzzing of the door reverberating throughout your spacious house. 

As you nearly tripped down the stairs and tried to smooth down hair that refused to be tamed by mere hands, you wondered idly if perhaps Dirk was paying you another visit. It’d definitely be strange, considering he knows how god awful your sleeping schedule is, and never makes an attempt to rouse you before noon. 

As your feet touch the hard, intricate stone floor of the foyer, the buzzer has yet to let up, still ringing insistently and much to your growing frustration. When you undo all the locks on the door and yank it open none too gently, you have to halt the growing tangent that’s building behind your lips, because it’s not who you expected it to be. 

It’s not exactly out of the question, considering their affiliations with your sister, but you were under the impression that social visits always occurred at  _ their _ house. Or, at least that was what Jade was privy to. 

But here she is, miss Rose Lalonde, swathed in a light black cardigan and sporting that vintage black lipstick that you recognize so easily on her. Her sense of dress is impeccable as always, a wardrobe carefully put together and seamlessly coordinated so that the colors complement each other instead of clash. 

Distantly, in the back of your mind, you muse that she reminds you of Kanaya. The resemblance of interests is barely there, but the thought is quite intriguing. It’s also one of the first thoughts you’ve had of any of the demons from the club, aside from your tirade against Dirk’s offer to Jade. 

You wonder how miss Kanaya is doing. You might drop by some night soon to chat her up again. 

“Rose?” Your voice is scratchy, thick from sleep and undignified at this hour. You rub lazily at your eyes, trying to clear away the blurriness plaguing your vision. “Are you perchance seeking out Jade?”

Rose shakes her head, her fringe of light blonde hair swaying with the motion. Her peculiar eyes - a shade of cobalt that almost appears to be violet in the right lighting - study your face grimly. Her expression has you sobering from your sleep-heavy body quickly, your eyes matching her own as you take her in. “What seems to be the issue, miss Lalonde?” 

“May I speak with you? It’s urgent.” Rose’s voice lacks any casual formality to it. She’s all business, hands crossed over top each other as she waits for you to invite her in. You feel as though even if you told her no, she wouldn’t accept the answer. She seems… antsy. Not impatient, but eager to do something. Something that inevitably involves you. 

“Of course.” You step back from the door, and pull it wide, allowing her plenty of room to pass by you. As she steps in and you close the door behind her, you can’t help but ask, “I’m a little befuddled here, however. Don’t get me wrong, this visit is a lovely surprise, but it’s usually Jade that you dabble with. Not myself.” 

“There is a valid reason, I assure you. This visit isn’t one to be taken lightly, Jake.” Rose turns to you, eyes narrowed, calculating. It reminds you a bit of Dirk. “I assume you are already aware of what I’m capable of doing?” 

You make a swirly motion with your hand by your temple. “Future sight and what not? All that mumble jumbo.” You motion towards the kitchen, and take lead as you direct Rose to the table. You’d much rather talk to her over a cup of coffee rather than stand in the foyer awkwardly. “What does that have to do with this? I’m at a bit of a loss here.” 

Rose takes a seat, as planned, and waits patiently as you fiddle with the coffee maker and set the beans to brew. By the time you’re taking a seat at the table with her, it’s with two cups in hand. She graciously takes her’s from you and chances a small sip from it. 

The mug comes away stained with black lipstick. “I’ve been having… disturbing visions as of late.” 

“Oh.” You’re not exactly sure what to say to that. The tone of the situation has taken a grim turn, and Rose’s presence becomes more and more foreboding as the minutes pass. “I’m deeply sorry about that, Rose. Are you alright?” 

Rose gives a small incline of her head. She seems to be deep in thought, processing something in her mind, sifting through the details before she continues on. “I’m quite fine, thank you for your concern. The reason I bring this up is because…” Her eyes down, study the wood grain of the table a little too hard, conflict apparent on her features. “Because in those very visions, I have seen you.” 

That has you swallowing thickly. “O-Oh? Well, I’m sure it’s just a trick of the mind!” A nervous laugh escapes you as you try to drink down the rising unease in your throat. 

“No.” Rose’s tone is adamant, unwavering. Her eyes meet yours, the depths of them carrying something sinister and disquieting. “It was you. I’m sure of it. I wouldn’t have come here on a mere assumption and wasted both of our time if there was any other possibility.” 

You pull your mug up to your lips, hiding your mouth behind it as you speak, your voice slightly muffled. “What are you trying to tell me, Rose? That I’m in danger?” When Rose doesn’t answer immediately, you find yourself biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes. “That would be me, huh? Hopping out of the pan and straight into the bloody fire. I haven’t the slightest inkling of what else could go lopsided-”

“Listen to me. Carefully.” 

Rose leans back in her chair. You can just barely see her reaching into her pocket and pulling out a wad of folded up papers. She quickly unfolds them, setting them all in front of you in an order you’re not familiar with. They seem to be host to a few scratchy lines of what appears to be symbols, the strokes stuttering here and there, like the writer wasn’t familiar with what they were articulating. 

You spare them a glance quickly, mouth opening to ask Rose what she was presenting you, before clicking shut abruptly. You freeze, catching one of the symbols out of the corner of your eye. 

Your hand reaches out for the paper, grasping it carefully and pulling it closer so you can inspect it. Rose remains quiet, watching you like a hawk as you zero in on the “writing”, your eyes narrowing, the clockwork in your mind setting into motion. 

It’s like… a small tug at your brain, a familiar sign you see on the road. A landmark you saw once as a child, and sometimes think about when you’re older. Except… you’ve never seen these symbols before. Yet, they tug at something in you, beg for attention, for recognition. You think that if you focus hard enough, you can see meaning in them. 

Rose’s voice startles you, making you noticeably jump, “Do you understand what these mean? Do they mean anything to you? At all?” She leans further across the table, a desperate yearning apparent on her face. A thirst for knowledge, you surmise. “Jake?” 

It’s starting to give you a migraine. Looking at these symbols is like having something probe your head, stirring up your thoughts in a not so pleasant way. You can’t bring yourself to look away from them, despite the sharp pain growing behind your eyes. The longer you look at them, the more you can feel it balancing on the tip of your tongue. The sound of them is there, waiting to be spoken aloud, but it’s as though you’re simultaneously choking them back, refusing to let them fill the silence of the room. 

“T-Ti… shu chisun-” It spills from your mouth, the words tasting hot in your mouth, like heated metal. “-huor. Wu cimmunk...e-ensi shuu?" 

There’s a slow, shaky intake of breath. You hear Rose’s seat scratch against the floor as she all but abandons it in favor of standing at your side. She leans down, enough to see the writing as well, enough to study you as you work through their mysterious meanings and sounds. “Go on, go on.”

"A mu… mussauju?” The word is like sand in your mouth, trying to fall apart while you’re desperately holding it together. “Si sphauru. Shisu frim.” Your tongue comes out to lap at dry lips, and you barely realize that your grip on the paper has given way to slight trembling. “Aun usurnosw.” 

It’s barely two sentences. You know that much. It feels like an extreme undertaking, plucking the consonants and meanings from whatever strange well of knowledge lurks in your mind. Already, you’re becoming ill with paranoia, because you  _ shouldn’t _ know these words. These symbols shouldn’t mean anything to you. They’re complete gibberish, the product of a creative child. 

But they do have meaning. They are readable.  _ You can understand them _ . 

What’s worse, is that you recognize them from somewhere. The realization hits you like a cold bucket of water. 

“What’s the matter?” Rose immediately asks when it appears that you’ve stopped. She places a hand on your shoulder, eyes shifting between the paper and you. “Why did you stop? What did it mean?” 

“Rose…” Your words feel like lead, your throat coated in honey. “Rose, I recognize these symbols.” 

“I know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to recite them.” You don’t think Rose means to sound petulant, but her voice does have a small biting edge to it. You don’t hold it against her, though. You’re freaking out a bit yourself, and this is coming from someone who hasn’t had to put up with ominous visions. “What do they mean? Where have you seen this before?” She brings her hands up to her face, running them through her hair in an exasperated manner.

The memory feels old, despite being relatively new. It’d been sitting there in the back of your mind, gathering figurative dust. You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling above you, hands folding the paper back together. “The attic.” Like Rose before, you’re pushing your seat back, standing up abruptly from it and placing an urging hand on her arm. “The attic! I’ve seen this before in there! On a- a-” You hesitate for a moment, trying to think, before slamming your fist into your palm. “A chest! Rose, come along!” 

Rose is barely able to keep up as you all but drag her to the foyer and up the stairs. You waste no time in finding the latch that indicates the attic trapdoor, having to reach up on your tiptoes to grab the handle. You yank it down, a large cloud of dust making you erupt into a fit of coughing and sneezing. Well, that’s embarrassing. 

“Forgive me,” You sputter out, waving away clouds around you. “I’m sorely behind on cleaning duty for this thing.” As the dust clears away, you motion for Rose to go first. “After you. The stairs are a bit wobbly, so I’d much rather you go first in case you accidentally trip and fall.” 

Rose nods, though she still seems to be a bit confused. Understandably, considering you started spouting nonsense about an attic before dragging her off. She takes a tentative step on the first rung, testing its strength, before ascending up the stairs at a careful pace. As she gains height over you, you avert your eyes, opting to look away as it becomes easier to accidentally see up her skirt. The thought of accidentally catching a glimpse leaves a warm blush on your face. 

You follow up after Rose has regained her footing in the attic. It’s dark and musty, until you find the lightswitch, to which it just becomes musty. The early morning sun shining through the single window highlights all the dust floating around in the air. It cakes the sheets covering all your family’s old possessions. 

Ironically, and maybe just a bit ominously, the sun’s rays seem to shine the most intense over the sheet that covers the chest. You motion towards the sheet covering it, and Rose sends you a strange look. “Not to insult your lack of brevity, but I believe an explanation is in order here. What am I supposed to be looking at?” She places a hand on her hip, canting it to one side and staring down the covered chest.

You cross the attic, maneuvering around old boxes and unused furniture as you make your way to the chest. As you near it, a peculiar feeling overcomes you. A strange, gravitational pull  in your chest. A natural, instinctive lure that grows in intensity as you near the object of attention. By the time you’ve placed a careful hand on the sheet, your body is all but thrumming with anticipation, as if screaming out in joy as you finally fulfill its wishes. 

“This thing,” You murmur, sliding your hand along the sheet and gathering dust as you do. You grasp the dust bunny ridden material and yank it free, unveiling the ancient looking chest underneath it. Rose approaches carefully, taking cautious, timed steps before eventually joining you near the contraption. 

She peers down at its lid, eyes narrowing as she takes in the features laid there. “They’re here, too.” Her hand extends, traces along the symbols that had been complete gibberish to you merely a month ago. “I could have prevented a migraine or two if I’d known you had this all along.” 

“I’m not sure what this is supposed to be, but-” Your eyes drag across the symbols, sudden clarity making your head spin. Markings that had made you scratch your head naught a short while ago are becoming strikingly coherent, and you’d be lying if you said that this whole ordeal wasn’t freaking you out a little. “-I remember seeing this contraption a hot minute ago. It belonged to my grandfather but…” Your brows furrow, your hand coming up to rub at your neck. “Why would he of all people be in possession of such a peculiar thing?” 

“Indeed, that’s a very intriguing question.” Rose’s voice lingers, quiet as she studies the chest’s surface and runs her fingers along the seam of it’s opening. “Have you opened this before? Do you have any idea what could be inside?” 

You shake your head at that. “I darned near threw my back out trying to pry this blasted thing open the last time I was up here. So that’s a no on my part.” You inspect the chest along with Rose, hoping that maybe something about it will be different this time. Aside from the weird symbols, of course. “If only we had a steady supply of sulfuric acid. We could pull a Mummy on this and pop it right open.” 

“I’m not going to ask where you obtained that idea.” Rose pushes insistently at the chest’s seam, trying to pull the lid from its body, but to no avail. “However, it’s of utmost importance that we find out what’s lying inside this thing. Did your grandfather keep a key?”

“There isn’t a keyhole, I’m afraid.” 

Your fingers go back to tracing the symbols, slowly working out the other half that you were unable to translate earlier. It’s the same process all over again, that annoying, poking feeling in your mind, as if someone is goading you for not knowing it right away. As Rose deduces what to do, you focus more on putting together those strange, yet melodic syllables, tongue working it’s way around their consonants and rolling them around on its tip. 

"Sphuns on kaurrnuss- enkur shu scierju if sphaucu.” Rose’s head snaps up at your voice. She doesn’t say anything, opting to remain quiet as you voice what you’ve put together. The words flow smoother this time, carefully rehearsed instead of spat out at the first understanding of them. It’s like heat in your mouth, a building pressure on your tongue, like molten steel melting around your teeth. “Fir chu chisun huor… Hu mess lauw waussu.” 

Silence follows afterward, the only sound occupying the room being the occasional cracks and squeaks of the floor as the house settles. As her lips part to speak, the sound of air hissing catches both of your attention. She swivels her head back to the chest, as do you, and it’s only a few seconds more of silence before an audible pop is heard. 

The lid springs free. Dust spills out from the border, years- no. Centuries of time preserved underneath the chest’s lid. 

“By golly…” It leaves your mouth on an incredulous whisper. Rose is at an equal loss of words, staring into the dark shade that lies behind the narrow opening. You kneel beside her, thumb slipping underneath the chest’s lid. For a moment, you spare her a nervous glance, swallowing dryly as the two of you exchange glances. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Rose asks, and you think you hear an iota of impatient eagerness in her voice. Her violet tinted eyes are wide, excited, yearning to discern the unknown. “Let’s open this thing and put everything to rest, shall we?” 

One of Rose’s hands joins you on the opposite side of the chest. The two of you nod at each other, before tipping the lid back. Immediately, you’re both scrambling forward, eyes searching frantically for something of value in there. 

But all that lies within the chest’s large space is a single, solitary book. 

Or rather, it appears to be a journal of some type. It looks enough like one, though you're sure you’ve never seen leather like that before. It’s shiny and pristine, white like ivory, though still possessing all the physical qualities of leather. Nothing mars its cover, a crude strap holding it closed as opposed to a button or latch. 

Immediately, Rose is reaching into the chest and pulling it out, a warning about curses and traps dying in your lungs as she quickly sets to untying the leather clasp. You can see a barely there shake to her hands, an excited thirst for knowledge in every movement as she fights with the journal to get it open. 

That light in her eyes dies as soon as she opens it up, confusion taking its place as her brows draw up and her lips part with unspoken questions. That has you asking yourself, “What? What’s the matter, Rose? What’s inside?” 

Rose shakes her head, flipping through the pages. “More symbols.” Her voice is flat, unimpressed. “Not a single shred of English or any other recognizable language in here.” She scoffs, snapping the book shut as she runs a hand through her light hair. “No answers, no leads, just more gibberish.” 

“Mind if I take a look?” The thought of working through an entire book of that language as a migraine building behind your eyes, but the desire to unearth what was hidden in it’s pages is stronger. “Perhaps I could traslate this within time. Or, at least gain a simple understanding of what it’s gibbering on about.” 

“That would take hours, at the least.” Rose’s words come out on a sigh. She plops down on a sheet covered box, resting her cheeks in her hands. “My question is why was such a tiny thing hidden in such a high security chest? Actually, scratch that. I have many questions. Such as why did the chest pop open when you read its inscription? What was your grandfather doing with such a cryptic thing?” She barks out a breathy laugh. “This really is beginning to feel like a horror novel.” 

“I really don’t have any other pressing matters today. So why not? Let’s take a crack at this thing, and mayhaps we’ll unearth whatever ungodly secrets it’s hiding?” The more you talk about it, the more it’s beginning to sound like the start of a mystery. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t growing excited at the notion. 

You’ll just pop back a few ibuprofen to keep that headache at bay and set to work on the journal.

“You want to start translating it right away?” At your nod, Rose’s lips spread into a slow smile. “At least you’re ambitious. But if I may ask, can we please move somewhere less dusty? I can feel my clothes gaining an extra layer up here.”

* * *

**== > Jake: Uncover the journal’s secrets!**

A few hours later of rolling words around on your tongue, writing until you’re sure you’ve developed carpal tunnel, and explaining both details and context to Rose, and you’ve amassed quite the collection of information both otherworldly and unsettling. 

Things had been going swimmingly for the most part. The journal seemingly had been entrusted to a particular individual, though you’re unsure of who exactly. The translations felt crude and simple, though you’re sure they were correct for the most part. So it’s wasn’t the most detailed transcript, which left things quite vague, but it gave you an idea of things. 

Whoever the journal was left for, you decided that they must have been of utmost importance. It literally spoke of its entrusted owner as though they were some sort of chosen one. A high value individual who apparently needed to be protected at all costs. It was absolutely riveting, thinking of who that person must have been. You wonder if they were a prince, or perhaps even a king! 

Then, as the journal dragged on, you began to recognize some of the translations. At the first mention of Derse, you felt your hair stand on end. As you relayed this to Rose, she agreed that it was an eerie connection. After all, it’s hard to put a positive spin on the literal home to all of demonkind. 

The thing that threw your for a loop, however, was the word Nephilim. 

“Uhh… Rose?” Your voice had been unsure as your pen paused on the paper, hesitating to scrawl out the next bit. Rose, who’d been carefully reading over your translations, peers up from the sheets. “I figure you probably know as much as any human being can on the matter, but do you think there is a higher power out there? I mean, angels and the sort. Divine beings.” 

“Interesting question.” Rose steeples her hands underneath her chin, a thoughtful poise. “Have you asked either of the Strider brothers? I assume they could tell you more than I could.” 

“I’ve mentioned it to Dirk before, but he claims that it’s just a bunch of bushwa.”

Rose hums quietly, “There is the notion that all myths are based on a small sliver of reality. For example, something similar must have happened or existed before the rumors of it were spread around. You could say that demonkind is a great example of that theory.” She tilts her head at you, eyes scrutinizing. “I must know, however. Why do you ask?” 

“Well. I was reading through this thing and I caught mention of something called a Nephilim.” Rose’s expression turns surprised at that. “I understand that they’re supposed to be some sort of angel hybrid thingy-mabob. It’s just. Angels aren’t real, right? If they were, they wouldn’t just let demons run rampant like they do… Right?” 

The idea of some sort of divine power letting all the awful shit unfold in the world makes you feel a little less than pleased. 

“I can’t say for certain. But you uncovered that in the journal, correct? I believe further reading is necessary before you can make complete sense of everything. Perhaps it was just a word in passing? It could very well have no relevance to the rest of the scripture.” 

Rose is right. There’s no way to know for certain unless you continue reading. You sigh, wearily. “Fair enough.” 

As it turns out, it wouldn’t be the last time Nephilim were mentioned. 

In fact, the word cropped up quite frequently. Enough that instead of raising the hair on your skin, it was making it crawl with uncertainty. As you translated more and more of the journal, several things were beginning to come to light. All of which made your mouth go dry and your stomach roll with fear. 

As you relayed these distressing details to Rose, her face began to mimic yours. 

“Something awful is supposed to happen. These Nephilim are supposedly real. Or perhaps it’s just this one person they speak of? It sounds like they have quite the doozy to contend with. This journal is speaking as though the world is going to end.” Your knuckles were becoming increasingly sore with how tightly you gripped the pen now. It became harder and harder to translate the words, equal parts due to you not wanting to bring them to light, and you not wanting Rose to understand them. Ignorance is bliss, but it was hard to be ignorant to the journal’s increasingly apparent warning. 

Rose had a plethora of sheets spread about her, having ditched neatness a while ago in favor of fervently reading them. Even her voice contained a slight shiver to it. “Nephilim, Derse, a line of genetics, a strand of heirs…” Her head would shake, an incredulous look on her face. “Sleepers and carriers of a divine gene? Some sort of prophetic apocalypse? That’s what I’m gathering from all of this.” A sharp laugh would escape her. “This is either a really intricate prank, or- God, I don’t know. I hope this is all a poor attempt at scaring someone.” 

While Rose continued ranting about the ridiculousness of the journal’s content, you were busy thumbing through the next few pages. You’d become quite adept at translating the symbols, their meanings and sounds coming much more quickly to you. As you skimmed down the lines of the next page, your eyes landed on something that had your heart almost stopping. 

Rose’s frantic voice carried on for a bit longer, before even she noticed that something was wrong with you. Judging by the sweat you could feel running down your temple, you guessed that you weren’t the exact visage of calm at the moment. “Jake? Are you alright?” 

_ English.  _

The word English was right there, smack dab in the middle of the page, in a book written in an otherworldly language in a time before you think English was even the norm. A part of you denied it instantly, throwing out the notion that it had anything to do with you or your family. It was ridiculous! Even if said journal happened to be in possession of your grandfather, locked away in a chest that only opened for you. 

Nevermind the fact that you could read any of this to begin with. Nevermind the fact that this wasn’t the only only weird phenomenon to occur lately. Nevermind the fact that you’d saved John’s life instantly and burned away layers from a demon’s skin with a simple push of your hand. 

Nevermind that you were born with the inherent ability to sense a demon’s life energy. And nevermind the nightmares that were constantly plaguing your dreams almost every night now. 

You wanted to ignore it so badly, pretend there wasn’t a connection. But the more your mind lingered on it, the more that connection seemed viable. 

“Jake, you’re beginning to worry me. Please say something, or I might have to slap you.” Rose had shifted from her pile of papers over to you, peering down at the book as if willing the words to make sense. 

“My… my name. My name.” It was the only thing you could force out. The words tumbled clumsily from your lips, a broken mantra cascading past them. “My family. English. Their name. It’s. It’s in the journal.” 

“...What?” She whispers harshly, as if incredulous of the whole matter. You too, you think idly. “Are you certain? It’s not a mistranslation, or-”

Rose breaks off into another skeptical rant, and your eyes drift back to the scripture, scanning through the lines frantically as you try to make sense of it all. However, it only worsens as more details are thrown into the mix.

Nephilims, carriers of a specific gene, a literal countdown to doomsday, the name English. A longe line of heirs. Heirs to a dormant power. The individual held so highly? The one who carried the active gene? There was no way. It was impossible. Something straight from a child’s fairytale. Or, perhaps a horror story. Rose was right. This must be one big joke. There’s no way it held any truth. 

There’s no way. 

You keep reading, despite how fast your heart is beating away, despite Rose’s high-pitched, fear ridden voice next to you. The book draws on, the talk of Nephilim shifting to the background of a prestigious family. It entails their entire history, speaking of glorified hunters and heroes so brave, they’d be spoken of for centuries if not for the secrecy that purposely surrounded them.

The book spoke of your family. The Englishes. Names both old and hauntingly familiar. Marksmen and expert demon dispatchers. They were hunters. Devoted to a life of slaying demons. To protecting their long lineage of offspring. They’d ensure that the next heir could pass on the dormant gene, until it finally reached the one it was destined for. 

Nephilim? They were real, Divine beings, and they existed at one point. It wasn’t a myth. Your family dealt with them. Your family served as their protectors, and the Nephilim as your progenitors. 

And they were subsequently wiped out. 

The journal continues making mention of ‘him’, as if speaking the person’s name is taboo. Or rather, revolting. It keeps speaking of the being who was responsible for the Nephilim’s annihilation, for the near extinction of your family’s name, for the destruction of all Divine kind. It consistently refers to ‘him’ as the scourge of all living beings. Even the denizens of Derse feared ‘him’, his wrath and callous disregard for life reaching what the journal described as ‘his’ offspring. 

The memory strikes fresh in your mind. 

_ “There’s some rumors that we’re some kind of weird branch off created by some super ancient monster called Lord English or something. How about that coincidence, huh? You only got the misfortune of accidentally having the same name as one of the scariest motherfuckers in existence.” _

The page drones on about his return, his second coming that entails the total destruction of both the human and demon world. It speaks of a holy being so devout and powerful that they serve as the only line of protection for both realms. At the very end of the page, you recognize the script’s version of numbers. Written in elegant, melodic scrawl is something that makes your veins fill with ice. 

4.13.16

You drop the journal. Rose instantly lays a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“Jake?” She eyes the discarded journal, shifting between it and your shell-shocked face. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Don't’ leave me in the dark. I must know what’s happening. I can only confirm my suspicions if you tell me what you’ve learned.” 

Hesitantly, you shake your head, mouth gaping on words that refuse to come out. Despite yourself, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears. Why? You’re unsure. You feel overwhelmed with everything. It’s too much, it’s too hefty a realization. It’s unreal. It’s like the world’s heaviest weight resting on your chest, and you feel like you can’t breathe. 

Your gifts, your less than normal abilities, and your entire existence? It’s all connected to this. It’s you. You’re that heir. Your existence in this day and age can only mean one thing, and you refuse to believe it.

You’re scared. You’re so unbelievably scared. You want to curl up into a ball. You want to hide inside your grandfather’s jacket. You want to be back on the island, living blissfully and unaware with him and Jade again.

“Jake!” Rose grabs your arm, squeezes it hard enough to wring a wince out of you. Her face is drawn up into a petrified expression, her eyes searching your own face frantically for answers. 

With tears gathering on the rims of your eyes, you shift towards Rose, mouth opening and closing on failed words. What eventually comes out is a broken revelation. “It’s me. It’s talking about me.”

At the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, Rose’s expression turns soft and sympathetic. “You?”

You nod numbly. “He’s coming again. Lord English. He’s… he’s going to destroy everything, Rose. My dreams- my night terrors. They were never nightmares, they were-” You choke on your words, holding back a sob that threatens to break free. “They were never just dreams. All this time, they’d been showing me what he was going to do if… when he wins.” You cover your mouth, a despairing noise pushing its way past your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling hot tears trailing down your cheeks. “Oh god, oh god. I can’t, I c-can’t.” 

The gore, the torn bodies, the crunched bones and mauled flesh. The organs trailing across the ground, the lifeless eyes on heads both smashed and decapitated. Your stomach rolls, bile threatening to rise in your throat. Women, children, men, anyone who got in his path of destruction would die a horrible death. 

The world would crumble, the same way you saw it happen in your dreams. 

“Shh, shhhh.” Rose’s hands are cool against your suddenly hot face. Her thumbs wipe away streams of tears, the notion somehow motherly and comforting despite the anxiety and fear eating away at your chest. If you weren’t so emotionally distraught, you’d find the whole situation laughable, considering Rose was a few years younger than you. 

You shake your head at her comforting coos, “Please, let it all be a lie. It must be. There’s no way any of it has truth to it. It’s just- a scary novel. Written to scare children, to get a chuckle out of, to-”

“I’ve had nightmares about it, too.” Rose’s voice cuts you off, her tone grim, but accepting. Like the severity of the situation has dawned on her as well, and she’s given up on thinking otherwise. Despite her words, she continues trying to sooth you with comforting pats and ministrations from her hands. “Every night, the same dream for almost a month now. In that dream, I always see that monster, laying waste to everything around it. It’s always so dark, like the dead of night without the moon to guide anyone”

You wonder how her words are supposed to be helping, when all they’re doing is reinforcing how hopeless everything suddenly is. 

“But you know what else I see? I see a pillar of light. In every dream, that pillar is always the only thing facing that monster down. Every time it turns to face me now, it’s not with fear in its eyes or hopeless on its face. Its with a smile. There’s certainty in its eyes, a complete understanding of what’s happening, as though it knows the solution. And you know what? I believe it very well does. I can feel it, even through my hazy dreams. There’s inherent goodness in it, a power so deep and cleansing that it blots out even the darkness eating away at everything.” 

You sniffle a little, your breaths coming slower now, calmer. Your chest still clenches with panic, though. 

“That person… is you. When they turned to me for the first time and I saw their eyes, I immediately knew it was you. I’ve always been able to feel something strange about you, Jake, but I’ve never been able to place the feeling. Now I know why.” Rose pats your shoulder, a shaky smile plastered upon her black lips. “I know it might feel overwhelming and just a little bit too ridiculous, but if it is real, know this: this situation isn’t hopeless, Jake. If there was no hope for survival, then why would that journal bank so heavily on you? Why would my premonitions tell a different story; one of triumph, instead of annihilation?” 

“But my dreams-”

“Are just dreams. Or perhaps your dormant power’s way of preparing you for things to come. It doesn’t have to pan out like that.” Rose relaxes a bit, putting a respectable amount of space between the two of you again. “Listen, things sound awful at the time being. There’s no possible way to pretend like everything's okay, because it’s most certainly not. You and I have opened a can of worms so deep and fetid, we’ll be digging through it for the next few weeks to come.”

Rose takes a moment to smooth down her hair again, patting down strands that managed to get displaced in her frantic hair pulling from earlier. 

“But don’t give up hope just yet. If you are some sort of prophetic heir, if this all turns out to be true? Then that means that you are a literal powerhouse with an endless well of potential. And that power is just waiting to be unlocked.”

Her words ring true with you, comfort you in a way you think they shouldn’t. You think that there’s an odd sort of natural wisdom to Rose, an inherent source of knowledge and wit that no other human being possesses. You doubt her psychic powers have much to do with it. 

She’s right, though. There is a flip side. For all the horrible power they speak of when it comes to Lord English, they speak just as highly of the Nephilim. 

Nephilim. It’s still absurd. Are you really part Divine? Do you really possess a whole arsenal of holy power? You try to feel for that strange heat in your palms again, that same magic that allowed you to heal John’s wounds and melt that demon’s exterior. Just when you’re about to deem is a fruitless effort, you feel a small tingling in your fingertips. 

You take to staring at your palms as Rose rises from her spot next to you. She’s gathered up the transcripts, stacking them neatly together and holding them against her hip as she smoothes out her skirt. “Heed my words when I say you should seek Dirk out about this. If what I hear from my older sister is correct, he is in contact with a being that is capable of confirming our suspicions. Whatever you do, do not keep this from him.” 

“Your sister?” Your voice is rough and scratchy, your throat unbearably dry. 

“I suppose I’ve never told you about her? She’s responsible for my knowledge about the Striders.” Rose extends a hand to you, and you take it carefully. Despite her small stature, she’s able to pull you back to your feet with only a small amount of strain. Your legs are a little stiff from sitting on the living room floor for the past few hours. “Roxy has dealings with Dirk and Dave. She considers them an extension of our family. At least, on her end. I haven’t had the pleasure of getting to know them yet.” 

Roxy… that name sounds so familiar. You think you might have heard it once before, but the memory is incredibly fuzzy and vague. “That explains a few things.” As you regain your balance and wipe away any leftover tears on your face, you can feel the shock of the situation wearing off. In its place is a comforting sort of numbness, like a natural wall constructed by your mind to keep you from losing it. “What will you do now, Rose?” 

At that, she sighs, and shakes her head. “My options are painfully limited, half of them because of my status as a frail, little human. If I had the powers bestowed upon Dirk, I would be scouring Derse for any signs of this ‘Lord English’ figure.” She motions to the pile of papers in her hands. “All I can really do is reread what we’ve uncovered. There’s still a small portion of the journal left, so I implore you to finish it before abandoning it completely. Perhaps you can continue making a transcript for me?” 

You dread finishing off the journal, but Rose is right. There might even be valuable information left in there. More than anything though, you feel like you’ve had an enormous duty shoved onto you in regards to whatever dormant power you possess. You figure the next few days will consists of you trying to drag it out of yourself. 

Thoughts of the future dredge up those foreboding numbers again. 4.13.16. April thirteenth, two-thousand sixteen? You hope to whatever higher power is listening that the numbers aren’t what you think they are. 

You realize that your prayers are most likely void, considering that the Divines apparently no longer exist. You may as well be praying to yourself at this point.

* * *

**== > Be Dirk**

“Dirk Strider, how nice of you to finally come.” The Condesce stares down at your from her mythril throne, one leg crossed over the other and cheek resting against her hand. From her other hand dangles her golden trident, its curved prongs glinting viciously in the artificial light of the room. “I’ve got quite the assignment for you, runt. This is a big one.” 

Her voice is clipped, barely restrained anger and annoyance hidden behind a professional facade. The Condesce doesn’t make petulant displays, opting to mask her emotions and admonish punishment and rewards with a mostly blank expression. You figure living for a few thousand years has lended to her impressive control. 

“I’m listening.” You keep your voice neutral, hoping desperately that she doesn’t sense a grain of sarcasm or otherwise in it. While you don’t think a trident to the chest would kill you, it certainly wouldn’t be the most pleasant experience. 

“Good, keep your ears open for this. But first,” She raises her trident somewhat, tapping its pronged ends on the smooth floor. It creates a loud, banging noise, an obvious order for her ‘guards’. “Leave us be. I wish to speak to him in privacy.” 

If you were either of her guards, you’d be exchanging looks with each other, wondering why The Condesce wanted alone time with you. But as it is now, you’re Dirk Strider, and you’re currently the person she wants to be alone with, which is more than a little frightening in all honesty. Her guards walk past you, their heads and eyes refusing to divot from the spot in front of them. 

When you hear the grandiose doors fall closed behind you, you’re raising your eyes to The Condesce warily. “How serious is this?” 

She doesn’t answer you right away. Instead, her lips are drawn back into a less than pleased snarl, showing off a row of impressive, shark like teeth. Her eyes are black and narrowed, save for the bright fuchsia that burns in her irises. Even her fingers are drawn up against her thrown, sharp, razor like nails digging into it and leaving scratch marks against her arm rests. 

Something has gotten to her. 

That’s definitely not a good sign. 

Finally, she speaks. “Serious doesn’t even begin to cover the severity of this situation. This is officially Defcon Five, Dirk Strider. Anything that I tell you stays in this room and in that head of yours. Is that understood? If word of this gets out, I’ll have you flayed alive in front of every single Dersite. I  _ will _ make an example out of you.” 

You lower your head, a sign of submissiveness to her. You make your voice as serious and flat as you possibly can. “I understand.” 

“Good.” At that, she stands from her throne, and your head would have snapped up if not for your quick wit. The Condesce rarely ever leaves her seat, opting to let her visitors and guards take care of everything. But now she’s descending down the stairs from her throne, and approaching you with timed, elegant steps. Her long, wild hair trails behind her, dragging on the floor like a boa slithering its way around. 

You feel a cold sweat break out on your forehead. 

“For the past few months, I have been keeping a careful eye on the split between our realm and the human world.” Her trident’s length nearly matches her own height, which is impressive considering that she towers over you. “I have noticed some suspicious activity taking place. Namely within a select group of demons. They’ve been meeting in various spots around Derse, and travelling into the human realm at planned hours.” 

“Maybe they’re just carpooling together? Not that uncommon.” 

You regret speaking as soon as you hear her trident strike next to you. It embeds itself into the black marble floor, skewering through it like butter. You swallow around a lump in your throat. “Hush, runt. Do you think I didn’t take that into consideration? You insult my very intelligence with that quip. If you value your hide, you’ll stay silent and listen.” 

She’s towering over you now, hair pooling around her legs in a crescent on the floor. You notice that it flows as though it were underwater, the strands swaying to and fro despite the lack of movement. 

“This group of demons’ actions would not be entirely suspicious, if not for the relation between their chosen meeting spots and departure hours.” She yanks her trident free of the marble, uprooting tiny chunks of it as she does. You stay bowed on the floor, muscles tensed tight and body deathly still as she moves around you, like a shark circling their prey. 

“Lately, I’ve been noticing ‘cracks’ in the realm.” Cracks? Like the fabric of space? You want to ask her what she means, but then again, you also want to live to see another day. “These cracks haven’t been seen for… a few millennia. That in itself is a bad sign.” The Condesce stops her pacing, her curvy figure looming over you from behind. If your body wasn’t so cold already, you’d be covered in goosebumps. “Do you know what kind of being is responsible for those cracks, Dirk Strider?” 

Honestly? You can’t really think of anyone. You doubt anyone in Derse is capable of ripping the fabric of reality like that, save for The Condesce herself. But even then, you’d never seen or heard of anything like this happening before. Hell, you weren’t even aware that this was happening until she told you. 

“I’m coming up with a blank.” 

“As you should. You’re much too young to know what kind of demon is behind these events. I would go as far to say that I’m perhaps the only one capable of knowing who.” That in itself raises red flags in your mind. Because to most demons in Derse, The Condesce is the oldest, most powerful of your kind. No one surpasses her age and power. 

Except…

“The very notion is ridiculous, but I refuse to turn a blind eye to this. Ridiculous or not, it needs to be investigated. I must know who or what’s behind this. In case…” Her voice trails off, and you hear uncertainty in it. The Condesce: absolute with her word and unwavering on the smallest details. 

You feel ill with worry. 

She stamps her foot down, the echo of her heel meeting the marble reverberating throughout the large chamber. Her trident joins her, its razor sharp ends digging into the marble and leaving dents. “I hereby charge you with investigating this, Dirk Strider. Your finesse and unwavering work in the field has earned my trust. Betray it, and you’ll wish that whatever demons were behind this got to you first instead of me.” 

That was simple enough to understand: get the job done or suffer the consequences. No biggie. Just make sure not to screw up, and you might be walking away instead of having your head slid onto a spike outside of her palace. 

“You know me. I don’t slack.” You try to keep the waver out of your voice. You are Dirk goddamn Strider, and you won’t show weakness to anyone. Not even Her Imperious Condescension. Probably for the best, to be honest. 

The Condesce nods, a subtle dip of her chin. “I’ll have a packet of details given to you on the way out. There will be a list of their known meeting spots, and areas where the cracks have begun forming. I would like for you to investigate all of them, even if the demons don’t visit them anymore.” 

The Condesce turns on her heel, and begins ascending the stairs to her throne. You take that as a queue to rise and prepare to leave. However, before you can turn, she is stopping mid step and casting a glance over her shoulder. “I… recommend that you bring someone along with you. While I do not doubt your prowess, I believe having back up would benefit you greatly.” 

Backup? You’re not used to bringing anyone with you on your jobs. Save for Dave, who occasionally helps, but is more so there to converse than anything. “Who do you have in mind?” 

There’s a short chuckle from her, a barely there shake to her shoulders. You briefly see her fuschia lips spread into a sharp-toothed smile before she turns away from you again. “Bring your little brother along, why don’t you? It’s probably time to get him more adjusted to doing big jobs.” She continues her ascent up the stairs, voice trailing off as she does. “I’ve always entertained the thought of having two Strider runts working for me.”

* * *

**== > Be Jake**

You’ve pinged Dirk a few times on Pesterchum since Rose left earlier this evening, but he’s yet to respond. 

That’s okay. He’s probably reasonably busy and you can’t expect him to devote all his time to you anyway. Even if you do feel like this is the most inopportune time for him to be busy. You think that’s a selfish thought, so you quickly stow it away. 

Jade is home now, and you haven’t worked up the will to even begin explaining things to her. Not that you want to. You feel sick to your stomach thinking about it, because for one, you don’t want to make her worry, and two, you doubt she’d believe it anyway. It might seem farfetched, considering Jade tends to take your word for everything, but this is just… insane. 

You’re still rehearsing how you’re going to tell Dirk about everything. You trust that he’ll believe you, and that’s what scares you, to be honest. As bad and cowardly as it seems, you feel like you want him to tell you it’s all a load of crock. You want to ignore everything and pretend the ominous messages aren’t there. 

You want to undo today. Pretend like it never happened. A fever dream. You’re sick. It’s like Jade said, you don’t take too well to the cold weather here. You’re sick from your campfire and this is all a hazy dream. You’ll wake up with a sniffly nose and a semi-bad fever and spend the rest of the day reluctantly accepting medicine from Jade and shooting texts to Dirk. 

But that’s not the reality, is it? You’ve got this strange new language floating around in your head, this incredible well of knowledge sitting in the back of your mind. Even now, you find yourself stringing together sentences, practicing them on your tongue and letting them flow smoothly from your lips. It’s a melodic sound, the way the words flow. Like chocolate slowing dripping down the side of a cake, or water bubbling in a brook. 

You think this would be neat, if not for the circumstances under which you’ve acquired this new language. You could woo Dirk with it, impress him with something that even he couldn’t understand. Let the syllables roll off your tongue and watch the flush spread across his face, because as much as Dirk likes to pretend he’s a stone cold dude, you’ve figured out a few things that undermines his steely disposition. 

As it is now, all you can do is lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, mouthing things to yourself and digging for any more ancient info hidden in your genes. It’s mind boggling, you think, that so much was hidden in your mind, just waiting to be brought forth by the right catalyst. You wonder if your grandfather knew about all of this, would look at you as a child and shake his head, knowing exactly what was in store for you later down the road. 

You think about your mother, and your last name. English… were you given this name because of your supposed destiny? You think about your name and Lord English. You wonder if there’s a connection there. It’s unfathomable, to think of why a family would want to name themselves after such a terrifying beast. 

The nightmares. You wonder if they’ll continue, now that everything has been unveiled. Is there a magic switch in your mind that has shut off, has recognized that you’ve learned what you needed to? Will you be able to sleep without the images of that monster tearing the world to pieces? You hope so. It would be a small reprieve in a time that is suddenly so full of stress and worry. 

Your entire world has been flipped upside down again. If figuring out demons was a headache, then this is a full blown migraine, complete with a concussion. 

What does this mean for all of your friends, your family? You think of Jade and John, of kindly Dad Egbert and your distant cousin Jane. You think of miss Kanaya and even Terezi and Karkat, as creepy and crabby as they can be. You think of Dave Strider, still young according to Dirk, and head over heels in love with your cousin to the point where it’s almost self-destructive. 

You think of Dirk, and you feel tears sting your eyes. 

You love them all so much, some obviously more than others, but you care about all of them to a certain degree. Enough that the thought of losing them is tearing a hole in your chest. The thought of seeing Dirk getting torn in half by that monster rips a sob from you, and you stifle it by slapping your hand over your mouth. You think of Jade, crawling pitifully on the ground, broken and bloody and terror stricken. Begging for help, calling out for anyone to hear. You think of John, brave John trying to help others, ushering people to safety, only to be crushed underneath that monster’s heel. 

Despite the tears dripping down your face, you feel angry. You feel such hot, righteous anger coiling in your chest, that it almost feels like you could breath fire. Your hands shake against the bed sheets violently, your muscles tensing and untensing as you feel yourself become blinded with such protective rage. Your teeth clench together, grind against one another so hard that you fear they might shatter. 

You feel like you’re on fire. You want to hunt him down right now and tear him limb from limb. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Rip out his insides and let him be the one to gaze upon them. Have him choke on his disgusting blood as you take your time flaying him for all those poor people to see. Make a show out of him, show the world what happens when someone or something threatens the people you love. 

The lights in the room dim, flickering briefly, the subtle sound of electricity arcing and flaring muted by the pounding behind your eyes. You curl your fingers in, feel your nails scrape against your palm as you imagine doing to  _ him _ what you did to that feral demon in the alley. Except, there wouldn’t be just a minor burn, oh no. You’d smite him viciously, turn him into a smoldering pile of ash, starting at his limbs and working your way to his core. Your thoughts have your heart racing, your chest heaving for silent, furious breaths as the lights in your room continue to dim and brighten with the passing seconds. 

The slideshow of violence happening behind your eyes grows in intensity, alongside the white-hot heat in your body. You’ve never felt so shockingly angry in your life, so overcome with raw emotion before. A smaller part of you is petrified at yourself. You’ve never felt so savage and unforgiving, so unlike the Jake English that you and all your family and friends know. 

The room brightens to a point where the lights are dying your green walls white. However, you don’t notice them, too lost in your cacophony of thoughts. The sound of electricity crackling rises in volume, filling the silence of the room. 

You clench your fists tighter, and suddenly, the sound of shattering glass can be heard popping. Little taps of glass follow it quickly afterwards.  

Immediately, you’re wrenching up from your bed, the sound having finally caught your attention. You glance around your room, heart pounding away in your chest, heat dissipating from your body in place of confusion. As your eyes rake over your desk, you notice fragments of your lamp’s light bulb scattered across it, white dust coating the wood in a thin sheen. 

“What the…?” Slowly, you stand up from your bed, opting to walking over and examine your lamp. You eye it curiously, shifting back and forth, trying to find out what caused the bulb to explode like that. You drag your finger through the dust on the table, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth as you mumble to yourself, “Bad bulb?” 

As you turn around to go fetch a duster and a pan, you pause in your steps, your eyes dropping to the floor. 

There, too, lies a pile of broken glass and bulb dust, obviously having blown from your fan. That has you stepping back for a moment, your eyes widening fractionally and your mouth falling open. Curiously, you decide to examine the rest of your room, wondering if anything else decided to explode. 

You don’t find anything else broken, but you do notice that your computer has turned off and most of your electronic devices have to reboot. It’s like a mini EMP has gone off in your room, rendering all the technology in here void for the time being. Slowly, and with your thoughts in a whir, you exit your room, shaking your head as you do. 

As you rush down the hall to the utility closet to fetch the dustpan, you can’t help but feel like… you did that. 

As silly as it sounds, you have no other explanation for why both of your lightbulbs decided to off themselves at the same time. Nor why everything in your room seemed to be malfunctioning now. You recall your almost embarrassing episode that happened just minutes earlier, your cheeks flushing with how uncharacteristically upset you got. 

That heat in your palms. It was there, but stronger. You felt like you were drowning in it. And then… 

This is the part where you’d normally say “no way”, but considering all the other wondrous things you’ve done with that strange heat, you don’t think you’re allowed to say it. Instead, you think about how you did it, trying to recall through your hazy rage what exactly you did to cause such a violent reaction. 

Is this the power granted to you through your special genes? Is this what you’re supposed to fling at that monster if or when he bursts into this world? Obviously, you haven’t scratched the surface of it yet, considering you literally brought John back from the brink of death with it. But… you feel like you should be trying to explore it more. 

Like earlier this evening, you dig for that heat again, clenching your hands tightly and closing your eyes after you lay the dustpan on the desk for the time being. 

It responds even quicker this time, filling your digits with a buzzing warmth. 

That wrings a gasp out of you. You unfurl your fingers and hold your hands out to examine them. Your eyes flit back and forth between the broken light bulbs and your palms. You swallow thickly, letting them drop back down to your sides.

“Alright… Okay. This is… This is odd. Neat, but odd.” You speak solely to yourself, considering no one else is around to hear. It feels comfortable to break the thick silence blanketing your room, and it helps you calm yourself down. Exasperatedly, you run a hand through your dark hair, shaking your head once again. “Blimey, this is more than odd. This is- christ’s sake.” 

You have a lot of new, interesting things to be getting used to in the coming days.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**
> 
> _Ti shu chisun huor, wu cimmunk ensi shuu_ \- To the chosen heir, we commend unto thee
> 
> _Au mussauju si sphauru shisu frim aun usurnosw_ \- A message to spare those from an eternity
> 
> _Sphuns on kaurrnuss enkur shu scierju if sphaucu_ \- Spent in darkness under the scourge of space
> 
> _Fir shu chisun huor, hu mess lauw waussu_ \- For the chosen heir, he must lay waste


	16. Weighted Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and reason don't always share the same ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, hello everyone! I am finally back after an agonizingly long hiatus. I apologize immensely. Class, real life, and other obligations to friends and games alike have kept me quite busy. But in the last 3 weeks or so, I managed to churn this out in my free time. I understand many of you have been waiting patiently, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that. I hope that this chapter will sate your craving for this story. I've certainly been working to improve my writing in the meantime, so I also hope there is a noticeable change in quality as we progress from this point forward. With that said, please enjoy! The plot thickens even more.

**== > Be Dirk**

The biting chill of the night’s wind is no stranger to you. Though it was well into the Spring season in this part above the equator, the desert’s temperatures still dropped dangerously low in the meek hours of the morning. It’s a pleasant feeling, the lack of the stinging dew hanging in the air as you zip through the dry shadows, only being followed by another of your kind.

Dave.

“S’what’s this mess all about, bro? You got me dragged all the way out here for somethin’ as easy as scouting?” Dave keeps up with your pace easily, a sore spot on your ego that refuses to go away. He’s faster than you, you know that much, and could easily overtake you if he wished.

Faster, but not stronger.

You’d memorize the mapping the Condesce had given you, some remote location somewhere out in Egypt. To anyone else, it would appear to be smack dab in the middle of nowhere, with only sand dunes to see for miles. To you, however, it is heavily saturated with demonic energy. That much you can tell, feeling and smelling the frosty essence of your kind lingering nearby.

Usually it would take large congregations to procure this type of heavy energy. You deduce that the party travelling together is either formidable in numbers, or they’ve simply made this trek many times over. You don’t know which option scares you the most, to be honest.

“I’ve already told you like a hundred times now; the Condesce wants me to look into something and said she’d sleep better at night knowing I had someone to watch my back.” Your voice is crisp, well punctuated and smooth through the howling gales the desert is throwing at you.

“Yeah, somehow I doubt that. I think she forced this on you, to be honest.” You scowl at Dave, and his returning smirk only tells you that he knows he’s right. “She’s been favoring you a lot lately. You might wanna talk to your boyfriend about how he feels about polyamory.”

“Shut up, Dave.” You don’t even have to see to know that he’s rolling his eyes at you, even though laughter permeates the area behind your gliding strides. As you crest a large dune resting in front of you, you come to a skidding halt, your boots digging deep into the sand as a wave of it goes splashing away from your halted position. Dave stops at your side, grumbling about sand sinking into the confines of his Chuck Taylors. “Told you to wear boots.”

He eventually gives up, deigning to shrug it off and glance about the landscape, his unshaded eyes zeroing in on a faint, green glow in the distance. His garnet eyes narrow, “Is that what that feeling was? Jesus Christ, you’d think they were throwing a wild rave over there. How many you think there are?”

Indeed, the pressure of demonic influence is heavier here, reminding you of the thick Dersian atmosphere you’ve come to know so well. “Let’s hope no more than ten? I’m not exactly scared by any means,” A subtle lie, you begrudgingly think. “But a numbers game is nothing to underestimate.”

“Right,” Dave drawls out, bordering on that usual sarcastic tone he seems to default to. “So are we just spying, or are we gonna get up close and personal?” Dave’s palm is settled against the guard of his katana; its hilt covered in ornate white cloth and cased in gold accents. It’s the weapon he uses for fights and executions, and one that you know has tasted plenty of blood.

You put your hand in front of him, as if halting, though he obviously made no attempt to move. “No bloodshed tonight. I’ve got orders to spy, not to kill. We watch from a distance, stow away what we can gather, and return to Derse. Don’t get ahead of yourself, alright?”

Dave doesn’t say much as he moves past, skidding down the dune of sand with as much grace as a professional snowboarder. “Maybe one day, you’ll stop treating me like I’m five.”

“Only when you give me substantial proof that you aren’t.”

There are no sounds to your footsteps as you make the trek down the sand dune and onto lower ground. Here, there are, forgivingly, an outcropping of rocks that seem to serve as the perfect spot for eavesdropping. A bit too close for your comfort, but enough to hear even the breathiest whispers that may be carried on the wind.

You and Dave settle next to each other, sparing lightning quick glances at the opening in front of your hiding spot. The dark sand was still dyed bright green with an unnatural light, even more blindingly so here than from the top of the dune. Your sharp eyes adjust quickly though, the stark changes in lighting posing no challenge to you.

And there, all huddled together in clothing that screamed more of an era two centuries older than this, stood the demons of rumor. Whereas your kind relied heavily on human appearances to slip deceitfully into their ranks, these fellows seemed to have no use for such frivolities. Underneath their dark green clothing lay skin that was only a few shades lighter. The maws of their faces seemed to spread wider than normal, the whites of their uneven teeth poking out from behind painfully thin lips.

Dave moves, the barest syllable of a sound almost escaping him, before he catches himself. A sound of disgust, no doubt. The look on his face told you that he found their monstrous visages unappealing. You send him a warning glance, a slight narrowing of your eyes, before turning back to the spectacle at hand.

The glow that was dying the sky green seemed to be coming from the sand. Now that your eyes had adjusted and you got a better look, you could easily see what seemed to be the beginnings of runes painted into the gritty layers. The demons huddling in the center of it all seemed to murmur something in unison, their voices warping over each other and distorting the words too much for you to hear. That, or whatever language they were speaking in was unknown, even to you. You definitely didn’t understand the harsh syllables that seemed to barely be slipping from between their lips.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dave’s own lips moving, and read them easily. A very silent “What the fuck?”.

The congregation moves apart, seeming to take strategic positions amongst the runes. As their footfalls paused in their respective places, the glowing lines in the sand seemed to travel forward, closer to the center where they previously stood. Elegant loops of magic arced as the green light slithered across the sand, converging together into a single point. As it reached its core, the demons raised their arms wide and high, their varying voices speaking a word that had your eyes widening instantly, and your mouth falling open ever so slightly.

_English_.

The cool metal of your sword’s hilt was a comforting feeling against your suddenly heated palm. The itchy beginnings of adrenaline had you wanting to spring forward, to put a stop to it all, but sheer awe kept you rooted, and so did the smallest well of fear in your stomach. Casual city dweller delinquents you could handle easily, but this? You’ve never seen anything like it. Even the pagan witches of both past and present couldn’t conjure magics like this.

Dave sends you a startled look, his deep red eyes flitting back and forth, as if asking, “Now?” You shake your head at him, opting to stay, and your hand comes to point at the spot the two of you are in. As the pad of your finger touches the dirt, the booming sound of what almost sounds like thunder nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

You look up just in time to see green branch off into the sky, a swirling vortex of unknown magic curling from the center of the runes. It’s all you can do to stare, bewildered, as the ‘lightning’ seems to tear at the sky, the briefest glimpse of an endless, black void staring out from the broken seams of reality.

And then, a furious roar that sent ice travelling down your spine. It did not come from the other demons.

Your hair stands on end, and a panicked glance at Dave reflects the fear that you are sure is also on your face. Your little brother swallows heavily, the bobbing of his throat easily visible. Wide, garnet eyes stare back at you, his pale lips pursed, as if he’s trying desperately not to make an iota of noise.

Your mouth opens, a silent word stuck in your throat, but then your skin is pricking with another fresh wave of fear as your name is clearly spoken. “Dirk Strider. How absolutely wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

Dave’s low crouch almost gives way to a spring, but your hand flies out, catching his arm before he can go. He sends you an offended look, as if beckoning why, and you merely respond by placing your finger against your lips.

The green halo of the sky seems to dim, the sand darkening as it receded back into itself.

“You may continue hiding if it pleases you. However, we are well aware that you are here. You have… such a peculiar smell.” The voice speaking is deep, baritone almost. Your muscles tense, your fight or flight instinct trying desperately to kick in, though you keep it at bay. Barely. “You will not speak? Then let us speak for you.”

“Would you like to know, Dirk Strider?” This voice is much lighter, tinier. Squeaky, almost. It grates on your ears in a way akin to Terezi. “Of course you would. You have been sent by that Witch, haven’t you? Then please, by all means, listen.”

The third voice is deeper than the first, and lacking much of the elegance possessed by the former. “The end is nigh, young one. Soon, this dense fabric won’t be able to hold our Lord back. Your Witch is beginning to notice, and that Girl has began foreseeing his eminence.”

The Witch, you knew who they spoke of. But the girl? That couldn’t have been any more vague. Still, you remain silent, opting to let them speak as a bead of sweat rolls down the side of your temple.

“Centuries of preparation, young one. Centuries… Millenia. You haven’t the slightest idea of the effort it has taken to bring this to fruition. Oh, and what glory it will bring when we have finished. A shame most of you will be dead before it is all said and done.” The fourth voice is sickeningly sly, as if their tongue was saturated in secrets and half-truths.

But their threat is obviously not empty. Even now, you can hear the rustling of their heavy clothes, their soft footsteps against the malleable sand. You suck in a breath, the cool desert air hissing past your teeth as you turn to Dave, and jerk your thumb back in the direction you came.

Back to the portal. It was a command you hope he understood.

No sooner than the two of you had sprang from cover did the seemingly primordial demons launch themselves forward. You felt the chilling wind of a blade narrowly missing your hip as you bounced back, pulling Dave by the collar of his shirt. He jerks towards you, another blade slicing through where he was standing only a half a second ago.

You don’t even draw your weapon, knowing that their numbers would lend them a victory if it came to a fight. Instead, you usher Dave forward, only following after him once he gained a few feet ahead. You bounce back, sparing one last glance as curved blades embed themselves into the sand, where your feet had been just a moment before.

At least you could outspeed them. Barely.

As you push yourself to catch up with Dave, you hear him huffing out, his voice a pitch higher from adrenaline. “Portal?”

“Head there! If we can get into Derse, we may be able to lose them.” You were really beginning to curse yourself as you struggled to keep up with Dave’s faster glides. Even now, you could hear them all behind you, gaining as the seconds passed by. “Shit, they’re fast.”

Dave peers back behind him, to you, and then the ancient demons that were becoming louder and louder. He feinted back a little, coming to your side despite the incredulous look on your face that warned him otherwise. “Not faster than me. Here.” He places his hand against the back of your shoulder, seemingly trying to push you forward as he did.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Dave?” You try to push back, and easily outclass Dave’s strength, though the nails biting into your skin make you pause.

“I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but think logically here, bro. We keep running together, they’re gonna catch us before we can make it. You go on ahead, and I’ll linger behind and draw their attention away.” You open your mouth to protest, vehemently, but Dave is already cutting you off. “I’m faster. I can outrun them. Don’t worry, I got this. I’ll meet you again in a little bit, alright?”

All of your instincts are screaming at you to pick Dave up and force him forward if you have to. Centuries of ingrained protectiveness are hard to swallow down, because despite it all, he poses a good point. There’s not much time to waste, however, so you allow your orange eyes to meet Dave’s own crimson ones.

As if spoken with honey coating your throat, you ground out reluctantly, “I better see you again. Soon.”

And then you’re off.

It’s a painful few seconds of sprinting, mostly because your chest is heavy with emotions you can’t seem to match words to. Too powerful, too consuming. That’s your little brother, your flesh and blood, and you’re leaving him behind to fend off a group of cryptic ancients trying to summon an incomprehensible monster into the world.

English. You hadn’t even had time to wrap your head around it.

One last glance shows you Dave deflecting a blade with his sword, before bouncing back skillfully and ducking under another swing. His movements blur into the shadows of the night, only his moon-bleached hair indicating where he was. Dave seems to sense your eyes on him, your hesitation, and you swear he meets your gaze with his own.

And then he’s taking off, with the group of demons trailing hungrily behind him.

Your stomach twists and flips, makes you feel like you have to swallow bile down. But still, your legs carry you forward, and soon the swirling purple of the Dersian portal is in front of you, beckoning you forward.

You step through it with heavy feet.

* * *

The Condesce doesn’t speak a word after you relay what you found to her. She merely raises a clawed finger, adorned with golden rings and pink nail polish, silently ordering you to get out of her sight.

Her lips are turned down into a frown- No, a snarl. Her shark-like teeth seem as though they may pierce through her shiny lips as she contemplates this new information. You waste no time with scrambling to your feet and rushing out of her throne-room, your hair a windblown mess and you nervously trying to smooth it back into something more representable.

The double doors close behind you, her guards tapping their armor-clad feet on the ground and their weapons clanging noisily with them. Your own footsteps are naught but small taps on the marble floor as you rush out of her palace and into the streets of Derse, seeking out a portal that you know will take you back home.

Reappearing outside of the city confines has you forcing out a shuddering breath. You’re knee-deep in grass, surrounded by trees that have yet to be cultivated, though serve as a good canopy for the portal that lies nearby. As you take your time walking back into the general populace, you check your phone, hoping that perhaps Dave had emerged from a separate portal.

You find no messages from him, but rather, a plethora from Jake. Which is quite unusual, you note. You open one of the more recent ones, a message sent about five hours ago, and the seemingly panicked tone he takes with his words has you stopping dead in your tracks.

Where are you?  
I need to talk to you urgently. Dirk this is important please…  
Please please get back to me asap! I dont know how… I dont know how to tell you this without…  
You need to be here.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it seems.

* * *

**== > Be Jake**

Sleep seemed to elude you for the larger portion of last night. Despite how ragged and tired you felt - especially your poor, shock-ridden mind - you had done nothing but toss and turn. One second you were too hot, the next it was freezing cold. Once you settled those issues, then the covers were much too scratchy, or your pillow wasn’t keeping form.

Still, you doubt it was the slight physical discomforts keeping you conscious. In the back of your mind, the journal’s contents continued to swirl around, the ancient text seemingly burned into your eyes. Overwhelmed, overloaded, there was no way you could halt the constant stream of what-if’s and could-be’s.

Like the evening before, you often found yourself dwelling on those grim possibilities, and the emotion they elicited from you was no less severe. A bit more controlled and self-aware, but that righteous fury burned hot still. Hotter than anything else. For brief moments, it seemed to burn away the fear riddling your mind, but once your calm began to return, that fear came washing back, like a violent tide battering the shore.

No lightbulbs seemed to suffer the wrath of your mood spikes, but your hands felt like you had been grasping at hot coals all night. The feeling had gradually seemed to trail up your arms, but by the time you noticed the sun peaking over the wet, Washington mountains, those thoughts had been tossed aside in favor of staring out your balcony door with weary eyes.

Now, as you sit in the living room with a blanket around your shoulders and the remote lazily laying in your hand, you can’t help but wish you’d dosed yourself with at least a spoonful of Nyquil. Never quite the news person, finding the corruption and convoluted world of politics to be droll, it’s the channel you’ve kept the television on for a while now.

Before Jade had left for school, she’d forced a cup of coffee into your hands, punctuated with her usual sisterly doting. Bouts of insomnia were rare for you, to say the least, so her concern wasn’t misplaced. Still, the look of worry that always seemed to make its way onto her features twisted the metaphorical knife in your stomach.

Yet another secret you had to keep from her. Though, you felt substantially less bad about this one. It’d be a miracle if she believed you at all. Hell, you’re not even sure you can believe yourself, to be perfectly honest. It feels as though your anchor to reality - what’s real and what’s fiction - was slowly slipping away from you.

The thought of your house twisting into the Great Beyond as The Twilight Zone theme plays ominously in the background does make you smile. You have to admit that there’s something undeniably silly about this entire situation. What was the saying again? If you don’t laugh, you cry?

You hate crying, so…

You’re barely broken out of your reverie by the sound of a reporter’s voice droning on in the background, the quality of her mic dropping due to the sound of harsh, desert winds whipping against it. Her accent and dark skin give way to an Egyptian heritage, though her English is delicate and possibly more graceful than most red-blooded Americans.

“It’s amazing, really! The last recorded earthquake took place nearly twenty-one years ago in the Gulf of Aqaba. But just last night, another one was recorded near Cairo, measuring up to a staggering 8.2 magnitude, and beating out the 1995 7.3 one. Reports say that there are no deaths, though a good number of injuries and property damage. Measures are being taken to ensure citizen safety, and families are being evacuated to emergency shelters as we speak. Still, another history-making earthquake to marvel at that will no doubt go down in record books.”

As the reporter sends off her segment to the news station, you sit with your coffee cup’s spoon in your mouth, your tongue running along the smooth surface of it as it normally does. Politics bore you, but the merciless vestiges of nature fascinate you to no end. You’ll admit that you went through a phase where the National Geographic Channel was your best friend at one point in your life. The exotic adventures held by famous explorers made you green with envy. You could only dream of doing what they did every night.

Lucky you, it seems, as the news flips to yet another natural disaster, this time in the form of a cyclone battering some cape in Australia. Though nothing too terrible - which you are relieved to hear, since you don’t have a penchant for death - but certainly a strange phenomenon considering it occurred at nearly the exact same time as the Cairo earthquake. The news reporters seem equally baffled, buzzing on and on about how the reports began to come in just hours earlier. Even more shocking was the emptiness of the sea just moments before the cyclone struck land. Natives of the cape town swore up and down that the skies had been devoid of storm clouds the night before.  

You find it utterly riveting. A good mystery, as farfetched as some may call that. It could very well be a series of unconnected, coincidental events. You find that thought boring, however, and love to let your mind wander into ridiculous places. Blame John’s Cussack’s “2012”, or maybe your first viewing of “The Day After Tomorrow”. You’ve never viewed natural disasters the same ever since.

When your eyes become much too heavy to focus on the television, you instead turn your attention to your phone, which is warm from the amount of time it’s spent against the side of your leg. During your restless bout, you’d spent nearly every thirty minutes checking it for updates, waiting to see that comforting orange text pop up, but to no avail.

As you flick it on and the bright screen assaults your weary eyes, however, you are met with exactly what you were looking for. Your stomach seemingly flops, flutters for a moment as you swipe the home screen away in favor of reading the message in its entirety.

Hey, chill out. I don’t know what you’re losing your shit over, but it can’t be that bad.  
I’ll be over soon. Try not to tear the house down, alright?

As you finish the last line, with your eyes falling solely on the question mark, the sound of the doorbell ringing has you nearly jumping out of your skin. You swear, maybe a bit too loudly, and drop your phone on the couch as you do. The echo of your voice carries through the house as silence follows the doorbell, followed by another, more insistent ring when it’s apparent no one is coming soon.

Dropping a few more unsavory words, you grab the blanket you’d kept yourself wrapped up in and huddle it closer to your form, sprinting quickly to the door with your bare feet pattering against the cold floor. With no attention paid to how your hair may have been sticking up, nor how the shadows lined your eyes, you swing the door open on the third ring to be met with…

Dirk. His hand pressed ever so slightly against the doorbell and his hair shuffled uncharacteristically out of place. It seemed as if the wind had been whipping at him violently, though the air was perfectly still outside. Black, leather clad hands gave away hints of what he must have been doing prior to this. He truly must have been busy then, you surmise.

“Dirk?” You test, though you’re not sure why. Perhaps it was the growing feeling of butterflies in your stomach, or the paranoid fears that had been eating at your sleep-whittled mind all night. Despite it all, you felt relief upon seeing him, his familiar, otherworldly beautiful face or his striking orange eyes. The slender slope of his neck, or the glaring near-white hair that served as the crown for the morning sun to sit upon.

He made you feel safe.

Strangely enough, he seems just as caught up in you. Pale lips are parted just barely, the smallest sliver of bright white teeth seen just behind them. Hooded eyes which always seemed to carry an unshakable calm were widened enough to draw your attention to them. Even his initiative seemed to be stalled, and you often knew Dirk to act accordingly, quickly.

You wonder what has him so enthralled. You wonder if, perhaps, it is the same for him as it is for you.

However, Dirk’s resolve is not one to be broken easily, if his continuous attempts at earning your trust were anything to go by. He clears his throat, his eyes moving from your own, to your lips, and finally back up to an indiscernible spot on your face.

When he speaks, his voice is soft, as if the silence is almost too delicate to break. “Are you alright?” Almost thoughtlessly, as if on instinct, his hands are upon your shoulders, and then your face, as if the touch wasn’t intimate enough. His skin is frighteningly cold, as always, but a relief upon your burning cheeks. The chill heightens your senses, chases away the numbing lull of sleep deprivation.

You feel simultaneously better and worse. You know what you have to say, have rehearsed the words and story over and over again since yesterday. Still, your biggest fears lies in the possibility that he won’t believe you. It’s not even a matter of reassurance at this point. Because everything that has happened, every little bit of mystic power you’ve exhibited is very much real.

The short curse that leaves your mouth is, unthinkingly, in that ancient, flowing language. The sentence you use afterwards to reprimand yourself is half of it and a bit of broken English. The expression on Dirk’s face goes from concerned, to mesmerized, and then utter confusion. He opens his mouth to speak, his hands drawing away from you as he does, but you’ve already beaten him to the chase.

“You’re not going to believe me. You won’t, can’t… This is… mad as a hatter. Gosh, Dirk, I-” You bring your hands up, rake them through your messy hair, and dig their palms into your eyes. “ _Hiw ki I ulphlauon shos?_ ”

Dirk remains silent, though he steps through the door, pulling it shut behind him so that the morning sun is left behind and your vision is left dark once more. He takes your hand, the smooth texture of cold leather pleasant, and his bare fingertips rubbing gently near your knuckles. In the chaos of everything that had happened, you find yourself missing him, feeling distant yet close at the same time.

He leads you out of the foyer, into the living room where he encourages you to take a seat. The silence is choking, you think, like being submerged beneath water for too long. You fear that if Dirk doesn’t speak soon, you’ll explode into a mess of words both known and unknown. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation lending to your erratic thoughts, but panic was quickly beginning to replace fear.

At last, a merciful response, “I’m going to start by saying I didn’t understand a drop of whatever the hell that was. You know, I’ve seen you angry, seen you sad, and almost everything in between that. But you, uh… I’m not going to lie. You look worse for wear. What’s going on, man?”

Only a small noise of despair escapes you as you rest your head against his shoulder, your voice becoming muffled against his clothing as your hands clutch at his shoulders. A cold sensation spreads across your back, something you recognize to be his arm. Immediately, there are fingers in your hair, combing through bed-wrought tangles and rubbing delicately at your scalp.

“What’s wrong?” He asks once more, his voice steady. Yet, you can feel a slight edge to it, a sort of apprehension that he seems to be trying to mask. “Tell me.”

You pull back, enough to meet his eyes, of which are hard. Fierce. For a moment, you are flooded with the memory of standing in the shade, coils of silver wrapped around your hand, and those same eyes staring at you from the dark. It feels like forever ago, the passage of time flowing so quickly, it’s left you reeling.

How much time do you have left? It couldn’t have been more than a few weeks, maybe two or three in fact. The thought of having Dirk wrenched away from you rips a sound akin to a sob from your throat. You cup your hands, cover your face as you groan out your grievances; too tired to cry, too prideful to let it happen in front of Dirk anyway.

Often times, you find yourself slipping into that separate language, garnering Dirk’s confused pleas of, “English, Jake. Come on.” Other times, you’re stopping, searching his face for any trace of a reaction. All you find is that stony facade, that poker face that often infuriates you. Now it only brings uncertainty, fear. Fear of rejection, fear you may be losing your mind.

His first words bite into you, sting as much as you thought they would have, “This is ridiculous. You know that right? I mean…” Dirk averts his gaze, his eyes bright against the dim shade of your living room. Your face morphs into a weary expression, your brows furrowing sadly as you watch him. Did he think you silly? Insane? “You’re not lying though, are you?” That brings minute relief, but it’s not enough to mask the palpable disbelief in his voice. “Why the hell would you lie about something like this? But still, this doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not lying…” You whisper weakly, finding your mouth dry, your resolve brittle. “Dirk, I swear upon my life that I’m being truthful. I wouldn’t waste your time with… with something so inane!” Frustration quickly finds you, and drags a noise akin to a growl from your throat. “I have all this trite floating around in my head, all this malarkey presenting itself on its shit-ridden pedestal, and believe me when I say I find it just as fucking ridiculous! I don't want to believe this anymore than you, nor do I entertain the thought of playing such a horrid prank. But on the contrary, there’s so many strange things happening of late, that I can’t find the evidence to refute any of it! I’m so tired of driving myself up the wall with it, and I just need someone to tell me that I’m not… that I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not calling you crazy. But… Jake, the last mention of anything resembling an _angel_ was thousands of years ago. _Thousands_.” He repeats the word, as if to make it sink in deeper. It does nothing but irritate you. “Long before Dave, long before me, back when The Condesce herself was barely old enough to call herself a demon. Speaking of which, The Condesce spent centuries erasing the existence of demons from the earth. No one knows about us, save for a select few.” He spreads his arms wide, as if motioning to the house itself. “So what, apparently not? Apparently shit has been happening right underneath our noses, and we’re none the wiser?”

Dirk sighs, his hand carding through white-blonde hair. He’s taken to standing while you sit, unable to keep still during his tirade. His reaction was expected, true, but you can’t help but feel like there is something else bothering him. Simple gestures, such as his constantly shifting eyes or the erratic hand motions. They betrayed the calm he had displayed just minutes prior. His words make perfect sense, but then they don’t. You feel as though he may be referencing something else entirely.

It leaves you feeling almost sick with concern.

“Are you okay?” The question is quiet, guarded. You tilt your head slightly, your eyes heavy with fatigue. You hope your expression conveys the worry you suddenly feel, but it’s hard to tell through the muck of a sleep-addled mind.

The question seems to catch him off guard, as he comes to a complete still, not even the rise of his chest occurring. He stares for a moment, lingering there and meeting your eyes, before huffing out, “I’m… fine. Just.” And then, all at once, he’s collapsed beside you, his typically elegant posture thrown to the wayside as he drapes himself against the back of the couch. He stares forward; not at you, not at the television, not at anything in particular.

Something instinctive tells you to leave him be, perhaps a more primal part of yourself recognizing the irritated monster sitting not even a few inches away from you. You’re well aware of what Dirk’s inhumane strength could do, what sort of doom his speed spells for anyone trying to flee. Of the carnage his very teeth could wreak if he wished it; whether it be a swift chunk torn from the throat, or a slow, and wonderfully agonizing death that beckoned you beneath warm waves.

None of that matters, however. Not to you. The one outlier outside of all of that, the one person you knew he could never bring himself to harm again… that was you.

So, you draw closer to him, pushing away your blanket in favor of settling against his side. It’s not preferable to the cozy warmth you’d been swaddled in moments before, but it’s something you’ve been growing accustomed to. “I think I’ve grown privy towards your mood shifts. I can certainly tell that all isn’t right with you.” His unwillingness to shift his focused gaze, even with you at his side, causes your throat to go dry. You swallow around it. “I shouldn’t have dropped such a bombshell on you, not when you were clearly struggling with your own dilemma.”

That manages a blink out of him. You feel him deflate with a slow exhale, his rigid body going lax against your own. A good sign, you decide. When Dirk speaks, it’s with a tone that matches your tuckered condition. “This isn’t you. This isn’t… but, what you said though. God, it’s not even coincidental, is it?” Dirk leans forward, out of your touch, to rest his elbows against his knees and his head subsequently in his hands.

Now it’s your turn to be perplexed. It feels as though you’ve switched positions, and now Dirk is the one spouting cryptic words. “I’m afraid I’m not following you, Dirk. What coincidence? What’s going on?” The rising trepidation in your tone can’t be held back. If it were something capable of shaking Dirk of all people, you’re loathe to admit that the issue is probably quite grim.

Dirk’s lips part; once, twice, before promptly sealing again. He shakes his head, turns his bright gaze to you, the words balancing treacherously upon his tongue. He open his mouth, the beginning syllables of a word forming, before the sound of his phone going off draws his attention away from you.

“Umm…” It’s not elegant by any means, but it’s all you can offer as the two of you stare at his pocket. “Perhaps you should-” He’s already two steps ahead of you, fishing his phone out at a breakneck speed, as if the call holds the utmost importance. You politely keep quiet as Dirk answers, offering an almost impatient hello as soon as he holds the phone up to his ear.

You can barely hear the voice on the other end, but not well enough to decipher who it might be. The expressions passing by on Dirk’s face, however, tell a dozen stories: taut impatience, genuine surprise, relief, and then sudden ire at whoever he was speaking with.

Finally, a hint, “If you ever do something that stupid again, Dave, I’m going to have The Condesce put you on house arrest. Oh, really? You’d be surprised at what she can do. You think so, huh? There’s a reason people refer to the woman as a witch. You ever been hexxed? It’s not my definition of fun, let me tell you.”

While Dirk blathers on to his brother, you sit idly, with your head propped against your hand, turning over what little details you can scrounge up. You don’t have much time to let your mind wander, however, as the conversation quickly encompasses you. “I don’t know, Dave. I’m here checking on Jake. Yeah, well, you better be spooning those words, because he’s spouting cryptic shit about English, too. I’m half expecting to walk outside and see crop circles. Don’t ask me where the corn came from.”  

English, too? “Dirk, I’m afraid I don’t fo-”

“No. _No._ Dave. Go home. No, don’t come here.” A pause, and a lot of muffled volume on the other end. You couldn’t make out any of the garbled nonsense Dave must have been shouting through the phone. A sudden, sharp and cold laugh from Dirk almost has you leaping out of your skin. “Yeah, and you’re definitely overstepping your boundaries. Do you hear yourself?”

“What’s wrong?” You try to echo weakly again, though your exhausted voice is easily overtaken by the growing shouting match between the two brothers.

“Scary stories, Dave. As in one-hundred percent fictional. Yeah, I- Fuck, yeah, I know it’s weird as hell, but that doesn’t prove anything. There’s no evidence to refute any of these happenings. It’s implausible, it’s- An investigation. Just assholes breaking traversing laws. Who cares what they were spilling, we’ll let the Condesce sort it out.” Silence for a few moments, and then you see Dirk’s expression darkening into one of uncharacteristic fury. “I swear to god, if you-!”

He pauses, waits in what seems like dumbfounded patience, before he’s roughly jerking his hand away from his ear. The phone goes back into his pocket, though judging by the way he clenches it as if it were a weapon, you figure he’d rather impale the wall with it.

You don’t speak, waiting for him to take the initiative himself. Dirk shakes his head, as if in disbelief, before throwing it back and sighing heavily at the ceiling.

“He hung up on me.”

Carefully, quietly, you test the waters. “Oh?”

Dirk levels his stare with you, his eyes lacking any shred of amusement in them. Flat, though not unreadable, if the set of his brow is anything to go by. “He’s coming here. He’s…” Orange eyes turn somewhere else, away from you. A hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck; a nervous tick you share yourself. “He’s not thinking rationally. Jumping ahead to conclusions, shouldering the blame on others.... You.”

“Me?” The word leaves your mouth on an embarrassingly high note. You barely have time to think about it, because a million other thoughts seem to be crowding your head at the moment. “What in blazes did I do?” More than just the annoyance at being accused of something you’re unaware of, you find your tolerance for everything is growing dangerously thin. The fatigue wrapping around you like a bothersome blanket is probably to blame.

“I don’t know.” Dirk grounds out, his words sticking to his tongue like honey. “I mentioned what you said, and now he’s acting completely erratic. Thinks the end of the world is coming. Thinks its your fault. It’s fucking childish, and I don’t have time to deal with it.”

It doesn’t take long for you to put two and two together. “Lord English. You told me he was a scary story. For- For younger demons. _Children_.” You scoff, and shake your own head. A hand comes to paw at already messy hair, worsening its condition as you rake your fingers through it. “Of course. Do you blame him for being so friggin’ scared? I would be too! In fact, I- I’m already damn near mad with what’s been happening to me lately!”

“Listen,” Dirk begins, his voice low. Calm. You can see the metaphorical gears working behind his eyes, his desire to draw logic from everything and dispute fact from fiction. “As far as I’m concerned? We know nothing. The only thing I’ve concerned myself with is taking this information to the Condesce. But sitting here, letting your mind fill with paranoia, egging on something that may not even be real? Useless. Absolutely useless, and a waste of time. So… chill.”

You groan out - nearly whine, in fact - your next grievance. While Dirk’s words usually contained a solid level of sensibility to them, you just can’t shake the growing pit of unease in your stomach. “I wish I could, I wish, Dirk. But this is so much more than just a random fellow, or a rogue demon, or simple codswallop. _This is me_ \- my night terrors, my powers, my family, my entire world-”

You cut yourself off, finding your hands shaking and your breaths coming in ragged intakes. “I wish I could wake up. I don’t want to be a part of this nightmare anymore. It’s no good. I’m no good- not good enough for this. I can’t shoulder it.” Slowly, your arms come to wrap around yourself, your body withdrawing as you close your eyes, feeling as if you could collapse on the floor right then and there. “Not me.”

One last sputter, your voice barely audible. “It’s real. I can feel it. It’s real, and I wish it truly wasn’t.”

Those last words seem to fill the space with something akin to hopelessness. Or, at least it feels that way to you. Your stomach feels hollow, your tongue terribly dry, and your eyes irritated with the threat of tears you don’t want to fall. The urge to run away, to put on your shoes and start gunning for the edge of town is overwhelming. But there’s nowhere to run, is there? Nowhere is safe anymore. In just a few weeks, the world will be _his_ cemetery.

Unless you do something about it.

Not that you have much faith in yourself.

The next whisper that comes pokes at your heart and makes it skip a beat. “Jake…” Dirk’s voice has fallen strangely soft. It takes everything in you not to look up and meet what you’re sure must be wounded eyes. Your sense of despair seems to be overpowering everything, however.

The feeling of cold fingertips touching your cheek nearly breaks you out of your reverie, your chin tilting just slightly up, your emerald eyes barely meeting Dirks, before-

The sound of the front door smashing against the wall has you jumping back; away from and out of Dirk’s range, as you stare wide-eyed at the foyer. Your fight or flight instincts kick in immediately, your hand sliding across the coffee table for the nearest makeshift weapon. Dirk seems to catch onto what you’re doing, however, and steps closer to you, urging your searching hand to stop by placing his own over it.

Just as you’re about to question why, the answer comes in the form of Dave stomping across the floor, his crimson eyes narrowed and focused purely on you. Dirk seems to be invisible to him, though the older Strider makes a point to stand close to you, his posture shifting from relaxed to almost defensive.

“You,” Dave grits out, his teeth bared together and showing clearly from behind curled lips. His incisors fit neatly into their rows, their points long and threatening as he actually _growls_ at you. “Tell me what you know about this bullshit. Right. Now.”

The command takes you off guard, makes you fumble your words as you take in Dave’s seething form. You’ve never seen him angry, only distressed, so his sudden outrage at you has you reeling. “I-I’m not sure what- I think there may be-”

“Don’t fucking play me.” His voice drags roughly, reminds you of pulling your feet through the sand on the beach. A hand shoots out, fisting into your shirt, the sound of fabric ripping as too-sharp nails piercing through it makes you gape like a fish out of water. “You know about what’s happening. You know how to fix it, so fucking. _Fix. It._ ”

There are suddenly fingers clasped about Dave’s forearm, the tendons snow-white against fair skin. The grip looks as though it could easily leave bruises, the digits curled mercilessly around Dave’s limb. Dirk is leaning into the fray now, his body coming to eclipse most of you from his younger brother.

“Now.” It’s the only word spoken between them, though it holds all the gravity in the world. You feel Dave’s grip tighten for a moment, before easing off gradually, a held breath leaving you in sync with his retreat. Dave draws his hand back, lays it at his side, though his fingers are formed into a tight fist.

Red eyes drop to the floor, almost shamefully. It reminds you of when a parent chastises their child. The grim set of Dave’s lips tell you that he’s far from calm.

“This is real.” He speaks only after a solid minute has passed, the growling tone of his voice lost to something more resigned.

“We don’t know for sure.” Dirk mimics his tone, and not for the first time, you see how similar the two of them are in some regards.

“You saw the same thing I did, Dirk. Demons don’t just get together and perform rituals like that.”

“Black arts aren’t uncommon, nor are they lost to demons. That proves nothing.”

“I’ve seen black magic before, Dirk, and that shit was way more prehistoric than anything I’ve ever seen!”

“You’re young, so you don’t have room to talk.”

“Right. And what about you, huh? Ever seen something like that?”

“...No.”

“Right.”

“I think you forget that I’m not the oldest demon alive.”

“And you know who is, or at least who we think it is?”

You follow their conversation silently, your hand raking over the holes in your shirt and rubbing at the skin underneath. You’d been following them up until this point.

Dave rolls his eyes, though the notion holds a certain amount of contempt in it. “And what did she say about all of this.”

“Nothing.” Dirk remains indifferent, unmoved.

“Nothing?”

“She ordered me to leave, and that was all.”

Dave stares at Dirk for a bit longer, his lips coming to form a taut line. “I can’t help but feel like you’re leaving out a few convenient details.”

“Nothing important enough to determine where we go from here. Leave this to her. And _leave_ him alone.” Dirk points a finger at you, though his gaze remains on Dave. The longer this continues, the more you’re beginning to feel like a helpless child. Which is really starting to grate on you by this point. “I’ll take this info to her, and that’ll be the end of it.”

Dirk’s suggestion appears to be sound, though the more your mind lingers on it, the more you find yourself suddenly fearing the idea of the all powerful demon empress having your number. You recall your conversation about her reforms, her iron will to reshape the demonic influence on the world into something more tame.

You’re suddenly wondering what lengths she will go to in order to once again establish her grip on the order, and those thoughts involve your well-being. If things were to be true, if you truly were the last of a dead line that no longer existed… what would she do to you?

“No… No, Dirk. Don’t.” He turns to you, his expression finally shifting into something more noticeable. His confusion was easy enough to place. “Just… I don’t want her to know this. I wouldn’t feel safe knowing that she did. I can’t trust her to not- To no flay me alive or chain me up like a beast!”

You send Dirk a searching look, a silent plea to agree with your sentiments. You feel confident that he’ll see reason - being the logical creature he is.

When he shakes his head at you, you find your veins filling with what appears to be ice. “I can’t.”

“Why.” Not a question. A statement. Your voice holds nothing in it, sounding hollow as it passes by your lips.

“I’m… obligated.”

“Obligated?” You echo, an incredulous tone finding its way into your voice. To others, it would sound petty, like a child throwing a fit after being told no. You decide that this is substantially more important.

“Dirk’s got a pending contract that requires him to tell Condie everything he knows. The price for refusing to spill equals out to about- Uhh, I dunno. His head?” Dave fills in for the elder Strider. The shift of attention away from you seems to serve as no balm for his sudden distaste. Still, his eyes remain hard when focused on you, and his gaze makes your skin grow hot with nervousness.

Dirk’s head, or your safety? The answer to that question seems simple enough, but the growing panic that has your head buzzing with words both native and foreign has you choking out, “You can’t. Dirk, _please_.”

His lips part, his face portraying the barest hints of sympathy, but then Dave is speaking over him, his words lacking any cushion to them whatsoever, “Suck it up. I know you might be scared pissless by this, but c’mon, English. Get your priorities straight.”

At that, you do find some gall to return Dave’s scathing look with one of your own. “Can’t you understand my plight at all? Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Does the world mean anything to you? Your sister? Him? _John_?” He motions angrily at the house, then his brother, and finally to himself. Of course. John.

No wonder he was so angry. You would be too. Had been.

It still doesn’t make this feel any better. You can’t find the words to speak, feeling like a cornered and trapped animal. All of your arguments have died in your throat, your objections feeling pitiful and weightless now. Still, it felt as though your lungs were caving in, your heart dropping into your intestines, and your grip on what was right and wrong was slipping.

Once more, you hear him repeat himself, “Fix this.”

He’s gone in a gust of wind, or seemingly so. You didn’t watch to see him fly from the house, but the loss of his presence in the room is both a relief and another burden.

Because he’s right. You have to be the one to fix it all.

“Jake,” Dirk speaks your name, gains your fuzzy attention as he does. He’s standing there, half turned to you, face wiped of anything recognizable; his brick wall that he covets so highly. He seems acquiescent at last, a revelation that has your eyes burning with tears once again. You shake your head at him, forcing your eyes shut, and biting your bottom lip as you felt the first hot droplet touch your cheeks.

You don’t want to look at him as he goes, despite his almost virtuous duty. You don’t want to see him as he throws your concerns to the wayside, despite the impending greater good. You don’t want your role in all of this to be finalized, despite it having already been.

“I’m sorry.”

And then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Translations: **
> 
> _Hiw ki I ulphlauon shos?_ \- How do I even explain this?


	17. Knife in the Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger finds Jake in the most trying of times, and his friends and family are not left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How fitting, that an update after so many months of nothing, would come on 4/13. I had been typing very small snippets on this story for a while, but I was inspired to finish a chapter for this special date. So here it is, another step closer to the end. I promised I would finish this story, even if it took me years to do it.

**== > Be Jake**

For the longest time, you merely sit, staring ahead at nothing in particular, everything around you colorless and seemingly still, as if time had decided to slow, or completely stop altogether. There’s nothing but static in your mind, a silent wail of agony as everything unfurls once again, sending you spiraling into a hopeless husk of a man.

Dirk has left you, in your time of need, when you needed him most. No shoulder offered, no attempt to stay and console you, just that cold, calculative persona overtaking him and overlapping anything you thought you’d forged together.

It aches like a fresh wound, a slight betrayal alongside everything else that has happened. You’d expected him to stick by you throughout this mess, true or no, but now what has he done? Gone off to sell your secret to The Condesce? You’re not sure what he’s doing, but his broken apology promises nothing good on his end, and that realization has you wanting to sob, both out of fear and heartbreak.

What if she comes for you? There’ll be nothing you can do, and on top of the monster looming in the back of your mind and slowly beginning to materialize in the world, if the natural disasters and everything else is an indicator, you’ll be completely helpless to her whims. Dirk’s story of her efficient cruelty make you visibly shiver, a fearful tremble wracking your body as you feel fresh tears prick at your eyes.

You feel so helpless. So utterly hopeless… There’s no hope for you, is there?

A broken noise escapes you, something akin to a sob, but not quite. You shut your mouth, cut it off halfway, because it just sounds so pitiful, and your pride won’t allow it. Hopeless or not, you are Jake English, heir to a family of adventurers and ancient heroes alike. You won’t sully your image by appearing to be a sniveling coward, even if your heart is screaming at you to release it all. Just let the floodgates open and cry out all your frustrations.

Despite the voice in your head nagging you to chin up and suffer through it, your emotions overpower your ego, more intense than any desire to uphold a certain standard. For a while, you continue to sit there, barely holding back the tears that threaten to fall at any second, hands trembling as though they were desperately trying to cling onto something.

The sound of the front door opening makes you jump, and you turn your head sharply, defensively to see who has come to disturb you in the middle of your crisis. Thoughts of, ‘What if it’s Dirk? What if he’s come back or he’s changed his mind?’ enter your heard, but they die instantly at the sight of the person who wanders into the middle of the foyer.

Jade turns her head, spots you staring at her wide-eyed and most likely looking like a kicked puppy. Immediately, she’s crying out your name and rushing over, not even bothering to run around the couch, but instead leap over the back, nearly crushing you with her weight as she wraps her arms around you.

“Jade…” You whisper out, her name a broken syllable on your tongue, but you can’t find the right words in that moment.

“Jake, oh my gosh, are you okay? You look awful.” You know she doesn’t mean any harm with her words, but it really drives home how pathetic you must appear at the moment. Jade draws back, studies your crestfallen face with eyes that have too much concern in them.

It hits you hard, then; just how fucked your situation really is. Because this is your sister - the sibling you promised your grandfather that you’d always protect - sitting across from you, heart pouring out sympathy for you despite not knowing your conundrum. If your dreams are true, if the journal is true… you may lose her. You may lose everything - the entire world, everything you’ve ever loved or enjoyed. All the places you’d dreamt of going to, the things you’ve wanted to experience. The people who’ve come to fill your life with so much joy.

They could all die very soon. The date of reckoning is speeding towards you mercilessly fast, promising chaos that only you can prevent. All eyes are on you, the stage is set, but the actor is still backstage, sweating with cold feet, and twiddling his thumbs because he suddenly forgot his lines.

You don’t know what to do. God, you’re so overwhelmed.

And it shows. You weakly fall forwards, resting your forward against Jade’s shoulder as your arms circle around her weakly. A sob racks you, and that sob turns into a chorus of them as you shake and gasp, all the while blubbering out messily, “Jade, gosh, I don’t know what to do- I just don’t- God, I’m so scared, I can’t handle this. It’s too much for just little, old me. I’m just one person, I can’t do this, and I can’t lose you or anyone else in my life.”

“Jake, Jake, Jake.” She rubs your back, though there’s noticeable alarm in her tone. She tries to mask it by smothering it with a calming tone, though it does nothing to help. “What do you mean? I’m right here, and John and Uncle Egbert is here too, and so are our friends, and Dirk…” She trails off, her hands stilling on your back. You can feel her tense up, all the limbs of her tall, lithe body going tight. Then she’s grounding out, very warily, “Dirk. Is everything okay? Are you in danger?”

Yes, god, yes you are. The amount of danger you’re in probably eclipses everyone else in the entirety of known history. It’s not just your life, or even just a few. Not even a city, or a country, but perhaps the entire world, and every single life could potentially depend on you. Similar to Dirk, you find yourself almost reverting to that cryptic language that keeps trying to bubble forth in your mouth, but you bite your tongue and hold them at bay.

Jade is blissfully unaware of the dire situation at hand, and even though you promised her you’d be truthful from here on out, you can’t bring yourself to shatter that serene bubble. Besides, you doubt she’d be able to absorb all of the information without being heavily skeptical, and the last thing you need is another existential crisis over the matter.

So you lie through your teeth, force your tears to stop as best as you can, and sniffle out weakly, “No, no, I-” You can’t think of anything too complex, so you say the first words that come to mind. “We had a fight. We… we didn’t see eye to eye on things, and he said some very hurtful words, and I’m just being very dramatic about it. I’m so sorry for worrying you, Jade. It’s nothing I won’t get over. There are better chaps out there.”

“Do you want me to beat him up?” You think it’s a joke, but then you remember who you’re talking to, and the last thing you need is Jade trying to fight a centuries old demon on your behalf. Rowdy or not, she’s still a human being, and humans are pitifully outclassed. Not that you think Dirk would harm her, but if he did…

You don’t even want to think about what you’d do.

“No, we’re… I think… we’re done. He won’t be irritating me anymore.” The words hurt, and the worst part is that you can’t discern if it’s one-hundred percent a lie or not. You power through the pain though, and wipe your eyes, a half-hearted smile showing up on your face. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Are you?” Jade pulls back, looks at you with those large, green eyes of her. Brighter than your own, more innocent, yet containing all the fire in your own. Perhaps even burning just a bit brighter.

You imagine that if Jade were in your shoes, she would fare much better as some holy harbinger, shouldering the pressure with stiff, broad shoulders and working her way through her issues one by one. You’ve always seen her as the strongest link in your family, by far, and she’s always been your anchor when things turned sour.

When your grandfather had passed away, it had been her shouldering your teary-eyed face instead of the other way around. Her strength is admirable, and something you’ve wished you could mirror. As selfish as the thought is, you wish that your roles could have been reversed. Then, you’re backtracking rapidly, because that’s an awful thing to wish on your sister, and you can’t believe the thought even crossed your mind.

Awful, English. Awful.

“I’m right as can be.” You place your hands on Jade’s shoulders, level her with your best, stiff smile. You’re sure your eyes must be red and your face splotchy, but you can’t be bothered to care. There’s damage control to be done, and even if the world might be ending, you won’t drag Jade down to wallow in sorrow with you. “Can we do something? Watch a movie? I’d like to, if that’s okay. I feel like it’s been ages since we last did anything fun together.”

Jade smiles at you, her face lighting up with joy. “Of course, Jake! I’ll even let you pick the movie out. So, what would you like to watch?”

* * *

**== > Be Rose**

You stand at the kitchen sink, hands resting against the metal lining, and head bowed. Your eyes are screwed shut, your shoulders almost hunched, and a hiss of pain slides past your lips. An unsteady hand comes up to rub at your temple, your head throbbing viciously as yet another vision assaults you.

No longer mainly your dreams now. You can be in the middle of everything, and those chaotic, blood-ridden scenes will suddenly flash before your eyes, causing you to stop all motion and simply sit there and observe. It’s like a horror movie, with not pause or stop button, forced to play out to the very end. Sometimes it comes in snippets, sometimes it’s the full brunt of the city collapsing and burning, but all the same, it terrifies and sends your heart thundering away.

As the days go on, it becomes worse. Occasionally turns into frequently. And frequently prevents you from carrying on in the slightest. You’ve heard nothing back from Jake, which irritates you to no end, because this is not something someone should be sleeping on. Even if he is hammering away at that old, ancient journal, some updates would be heavily appreciated. Something to ease your mind, at least. You’ll take any relief you can get at this point.

You fetch a glass of water, filling it nearly to the brim, and then chug it empty in just a few seconds. Your lips leave black imprints on the glass, and you toss it into the sink with little regard, a gasp escaping your lips as you catch your breath. This is beginning to become absurd, you think.

Your life is quickly turning into one, big episode of paranoia. If it’s not the visions, then it’s the strange happenings with Jake, and if it’s not that, then it’s the ominous promise of death - which had quite literally cropped up just a few days ago. From zero to a hundred, it’s a little too much for a solitary girl to take in, and it’s beginning to wear on your mental state.

You’ve been holding it together decently lately, but that’s only because you’re clinging onto the possibility that it might just be a fluke. There are plenty of fairy tales and scary stories passed down through generations, but it’s not often - or ever - that you have real life evidence of them demonstrating cryptic powers and spouting an ancient language to back it up.

Jake English is both terrifying, and your only hope… if everything does happen to be true.

You’d called your older sister, Roxy, and told her of the happenings. She’d passed it off as unnecessary concern, stating that if it were true, wouldn’t someone else know about it? Roxy didn’t seem to think much of it, no matter how much you tried to reinforce your worries. She’d offered to come and stay with you for a bit, to calm your mind, but you’d refused, not wanting to wrangle her into the situation any further.

If the apocalypse is coming, you’d rather her stay away from the first place it plans on hitting. You’d rather die first than let your sister go before you, because you wouldn’t know what to do without her.

As you make your way back through your house - quiet and dark, lit with only the dimmest of lights to ease your aching head - you find yourself stopping in the middle of the hallway. A breeze ruffles your skirt lightly, making goosebumps run up your legs. It’s cold, colder than the air conditioning that you don’t remember turning on.

You turn, and find that your front door has been slung wide open, the hinges on it barely hanging on, as if whatever hit it was packing a sledgehammer. But… but how did you miss it? Such a loud noise surely would have caught your attention? Unless…

Unless you had been in the middle of an episode while it happened.

It feels as though your heart has leapt forward, trying to claw its way out of your chest. Someone is in your house, and who - or what - it is, you have no idea. Judging by the state of your front door, you guess that their intentions are less than pure.

Panic riddles your already weakened mind, and you quickly pull out your phone, fingers shakily finding the dial pad on the screen. Logic is overshadowed by primal fear, and instead of dialing 911, you hit speed dial on the first number that pops up. The phone goes to your ear, your violet eyes wildly searching around you for any sign of movement.

“Hello? Rose?”

“Jake…” You whisper harshly, voice on the edge of breaking. “Jake, I need your help. I need… someone here with me. Someone is in my house. Please-”

The sound of glass shattering makes you jump, and you drop your phone on the wooden floor. It smacks hard and bounces away from your feet, and instead of reaching for it again, you’re instead left turning in circles, searching for where the noise came from. Distantly, you can hear Jake talking through the receiver, his voice muffled, but you can tell he’s asking questions.

You won’t ask who’s here, because that would be foolish, and even your fear-ridden mind can discern that. Instead, you step forward as quietly as you can, opting to peer around the corner into the next room. Your house is full of glass items, but you know it definitely came from your living room.

As you go to place your fingers against the frame on the corner, and move to lean around, a clawed hand shoots out, wrapping it’s way around your mouth, as stiff, icy limbs circle your body. Immediately, you try to resist, throwing your head back and catching what you think is a nose. A feral growl emits from the intruder, an inhuman sound and something more akin to a wild animal. That sends even more alarm bells off in your mind, and you resort to thrashing wildly, trying to throw your body every which way in the hopes that you’ll break free.

Your voice is muffled, your screams of resistance futile. The creature’s hand slips enough for you to catch the edge of its hand with your teeth, and you bite down, hard. Cold, bitter tasting blood fills your mouth and they yelp, jumping back and cursing in a voice that resembles steel grating on steel.

Immediately, you spit the blood out, knowing full well what could happen to you if you swallow it. You sputter and cough, and try to make a dive back into the hallway, where your phone still lies on the floor. As you near it, you feel something wrap around your ankle, and it sends you sprawling forwards. Your chin bounces heavily on the wood, and you thank the stars that you didn’t bite your tongue off.

As you look back, you see exactly what was trying to hold you down. Black, soulless eyes full of void stare back at you, the features of the creature's body appearing to be sunken and mottled. It looks ancient, donned in nothing but a dark green cloak that is ripped in various places. The hand upon your leg sports long, vicious claws, and you can feel their tips digging into your skin painfully.

You try to wrench yourself around, enough to reach the phone lying on the floor, all the while kicking at the monster with your free leg. You can feel the heel of your shoe meeting its face, but it doesn’t seem to do much, other than make it angrier. It bares its teeth at you, its mouth full of nothing but sharp, jagged edges. It lurches down, chomps right into the meat of your leg, and sends blood spurting from the wound. Immediately, a scream rips its way free from your throat, raw and piercing in the deafening quiet of your home.

“Jake! Jake, help me! Please, god, somebody!” You scream out, half in pain, half in primal fear. You feel your body being dragged backwards, into the maw and the arms of the beast, and your scream pitches upwards. Your nails dig into the wooden floorboards, dragging across them, but to no avail.

You scream Jake’s name once more as it pulls you through the house.

* * *

**== > Be Jake**

Days had passed since that fateful morning with Dirk and his brother. You’d managed to convince Jade you were well enough to be left alone, though you sometimes wonder whether or not that’s really true. You can’t help but feel an inexplicable loneliness, some of it spawned from the burden on your shoulders, though most of it from what happened with Dirk.

You miss him terribly, you realize, a hollow left in your aching heart. Bad terms or not, you’d give anything to see him right now, or even see his bright orange text light up your Pesterchum. Strangely, though, he’s been offline ever since your confrontation with him, and it has you worried beyond all belief.

You’re sitting at your desk, clicking a pen restlessly while you stare at the background of your computer. Your phone is laid by the keyboard, face up in case its screen flashes with a sudden notification. It’s been this way for hours, and as pitiful as you think you’re acting, you can’t bring yourself to do anything else. Just wait, and wait, and wait, and hope that maybe he’ll decide to talk to you, because you certainly can’t talk to him.

When the screen does light up, it has you jumping and banging your knee on the underside of your desk. You hiss out a few colorful curses, and go to reach for it, but then your ringtone is blaring its cheery song. You think it’s a bit awkward, that Dirk would be calling you when your preferred method of speaking is through Pesterchum, but then you get a good look at the caller ID.

It’s Rose, and while that would have been strange a week ago, it’s not now, and it has you quickly answering, with a rushed, “Hello? Rose?”

Harsh whispering fills your phone, and you have to struggle to make out her fast, frantic words. What you hear sends ice crawling in your veins, but as you go to reply, you hear a loud, smacking noise reverberate through the speaker. The noise makes you flinch, and your eardrums ache with the follow up.

“Rose? Rose! What’s wrong? What’s happening? Who’s there?” The other end is ominously quiet. You shoot up from your seat, unable to keep yourself still. Anxiety washes over you like a cold wave, though nervous sweat beads at your hairline. “Rose!”

More seconds pass, perhaps a minute or so, and then various banging noises can be heard. Faintly, you can hear something that resembles humming, or a muted noise of some sort, but then a large crash is heard afterwards. As everything goes quiet once more, you part your lips to speak again, though it’s cut off by an ear-shattering scream.

Rose cries out in the background, her voice shrill and pained, and then she’s sobbing out pleads for help. Growls can be heard on the other end as well, mixed in with Rose’s screams of terror. Her screams eventually begin to fade away, like a doppler effect, becoming more and more distant as the seconds go by.

The other line goes completely silent, though her phone remains on.

You drop your phone on the desk, and immediately bolt out of the room.

“Of all the times… of all the times, Dirk! Fuck!” The stairs are taken two, sometimes three at a time, and you roughly snatch your keys off of the keyrack. Jade is, thankfully absent from home again, and even more thankfully, not visiting Rose. If anyone saw you exiting your home, they might think you were on your way to kill a man with how frantic you were moving.

To be quite honest, the possibility exists. The growls that seeped through Rose’s phone were not unfamiliar to you. You remember hearing those same, feral noises in the alleyway that day, and the wavelength of it has been permanently burned into your mind. The scars on your bicep and shoulder are proof of what could be happening to Rose right now, and you won’t sit by idly and let her die without a fight.

As you drive like a lunatic through the neighborhood and narrowly miss parked vehicles by a hair’s width, you can’t help but wonder why Rose was in danger. From what you learned from Dirk, feral demons normally roam cityscapes, not quaint little neighborhoods. Their crimes were easier to hide in tens of thousands of people, not in a place where everyone knew each other.

Something wasn’t right, and your heart felt as though it was slowly sinking into your stomach. Nothing felt right all of a sudden, and paranoia ate away at you like a disease.

_'What on earth is happening?’_

The winding hill leading up to Rose’s lavish house is familiar enough, given your history of driving Jade here. You don’t even bother parking or turning your vehicle off, instead furiously undoing your seatbelt and abandoning it altogether as you run for her wrap-around porch. The front door is swung wide open, the hinges sporting vicious splinters, as if someone had quite literally tried to rip it off of the frame.

As your eyes drift downwards, you notice what appears to be soot-like footprints covering the wooden planks. Black, inky smoke drifts upwards from them, like smoke rising from a smothered fire. You bend down, dragging your finger across the footprint, but your hand comes away clean, and the soot doesn’t budge under your touch.

“Oh…” Right. Divine powers. In the midst of everything, you’d almost forgotten about the strange things happening to you. It doesn’t take you long to figure out that what you’re looking at is demonic essence, messily leaked by a rabid demon. Whatever was inside Rose’s house was probably a mindless, raging beast. Or they were just unaware of their sloppy standards.

There’s no time to dawdle on the matter, though. You can’t risk another second. Rose’s life was in danger, and you pray that she isn’t dead already. As sick as it is, you’re banking on the possibility that the demon is taking their sweet time with her. Best to have her alive than not at all, you think.

You don’t have to walk far to find what you’re looking for. A simple trek down the hallway and around a corner reveals Rose’s living room to you. In the middle, hunched over her trembling form, is a being cloaked in a dark green robe, something more fitting for a stage play than modern society. That has you pausing altogether, noting its unusual wear, but when it turns to spy who has entered the room, you audibly gasp.

It’s face is sunken, and its eyes are solid black. Rows and rows of shark-like teeth line its mouth, a broken maw fit more for an eldritch horror than anything. It spots you standing there, dumbfounded, and then hisses violently, the sound drawing a terrified whimper out of Rose.

Your eyes lower to her form, bloodied in some places, but ultimately together and less shredded than you anticipated. Her leg sports the worst wound; dozens of small punctures leaking blood in the shape of a double crescent. Her chin is covered in blood as well, though it’s much darker in complexion.

When your eyes meet the soulless ones of the demon, it speaks before you can even open your mouth. “Jake English.” It hisses out your name like it's the plague, its unattractive features scrunching up in disgust at you. The hand wound into Rose’s hair leaves her head, and she rolls away as it turns to you, her form curling up into a defensive ball as it speaks. “I’ve been waiting for you. I knew I could find you.”

That has you turning defensive immediately, your emerald eyes narrowing into small, threatening slits, “You were looking for me? Then why? Why go after a poor, defenseless woman, than come to me? I would have gladly kicked your ass, if that’s what you’re wanting.” You suddenly regret not packing a gun, for all your bravado. You don’t know how well intimidation tactics work against demons, but you’ll fight it nonetheless.

It laughs, a broken noise unlike any human laughter you’ve heard before. It’s choppy and sparse and full of wheezing, and it shakes its head at you. “That is where you are wrong, boy. I’ve come to snuff that disgusting bright life out of you.” It comes to stand, it’s full height towering at least a foot above you. You notice that its body has inhumane proportions; limbs that are too long, skin that is too ashen. “I won’t let you ruin what is meant to come and pass. You _will_ die.”

It takes a step forward, and you instinctively go to take a step back, but it’s next words has you stopping mid step.

“Just like Dirk Strider will.”

It glides forward quickly, a mirror of Dirk’s speed, if not faster than what he can accomplish. You know this, because of the time frame in which it goes from being stationary by Rose, to being in your face, but there’s something odd about it all. You know all of this, because…

Because your eyes tracked the movement perfectly. Not a single limb blurred, or a movement unseen. You could see it all with ease. As such, when the demon’s claw stabbed forward to pierce your chest, you were able to duck, sending its razor-like nails into the wall instead. You roll out from underneath it, back to your feet, and send a kick to where you know its kneecap is. The sound of bone crunching under your boot tells you that you hit your mark, and the hoarse cry of pain that rips from its mouth reaffirms that.

Bouncing back from its hunched form, you peer over your shoulder to look for Rose, but find that her body is nowhere to be seen. Panic floods you for a moment, before you deduce that she most likely crawled off to a safer location. Good then, you decide. You wouldn’t want her to get mixed up in the heat of things.

“You…” It croaks, hand reaching down to touch a knee that was bending a bit too far in the wrong direction. It suddenly yanks itself back, pushing its hand into the back of its knee and realigning the bone with a sickening crunch. A haggard gasp pours from its mouth, and its breathing turns heavy as it glares at you over its shoulder. “Faster than normal. No. No, it’s happening too quickly. I…”

You have no idea what its talking about, its words too cryptic and lacking any contextual clues. Instead, you ready yourself for another bull rush, fixing your stance so that you can’t be swept off your feet easily. The demon yanks its hand free from the wall, sending bits of dried paint and sheetrock to the floor.

“I…” It scoffs at you, a low rumble forming in the back of its throat. It gives way to a chuckle, and then a bout of full blown laughter as it tilts its head back, cackling madly like a psychopath. Its voice makes your ears ache, a sharp, grating tone that reminds you of scraping something on a chalkboard. “I… will kill you, Jake English!”

Anticipating a punch, you’re taken off guard when, instead, a bolt of viscous green energy explodes from its hand. It flies forward too quickly for you to dodge, and smashes into your shoulder. Immediately, your skin begins to feel warm where it impacted, and hissing can be heard as you observe the damage. The material of your shirt literally disintegrates, and the warmth transforms into an outright burning as it eats away at your skin, leaving it raw and bloodied.

You try to wipe away at it, but to no avail. The volatile magic leaves a sickening wound on you, your skin blackened and ripped from where the bolt dug in. A rough groan of pain seeps past your clenched teeth, and the temporary flinch it incites gives the demon an opening to attack you once more.

It glides forward again, its foot smashing into your stomach as it sends you flying across the room. Your back smashes into a glass cabinet, nothing but the sound of shattering furniture and decorations filling your senses. You don’t even get enough time to lament over the fact that it outsmarted you, when you feel a hand wrap around your throat and hoist you high into the air.

“I have you now.” The demon croons at you, and its grip on your throat tightens mercilessly. It pushes back, slams you into the wall yet again, though your body is held firmly there this time around. Your hands grip and claw at its arm, but no matter how many measly scratches you leave on it, it doesn’t budge in the slightest. “Struggle all you want, false idol. I relish in knowing you’ll be begging for your life, before I extinguish it.” A choked noise slips past your lips, a scratchy attempt for air, but none hisses past your quickly closing throat.

Your legs kick out, try to find some sort of purchase, but your current position doesn't allow for much. Burning begins to encompass your lungs, a desperate prayer for oxygen, and your eyes begin to water.

Heat floods your face, and the room begins to spin, swaying back and forth as you sputter incomprehensible noises. The kicking of your legs dies down, now only half-hearted swishes of limbs that can't communicate with your slowly dying mind.

The demon's smile turns sharp, triumphant, it's victory lying just seconds away. You can't think past the fact that you've been conquered by a lowly demon, a rabid brute that probably sat at the lowest rung of its kind’s biological ladder.

And here you were, supposed to take on the almighty Lord English. It's almost laughable how quickly you've failed.

Your eyes flutter, threaten to close permanently on you. It almost feels like falling asleep, like the fuzzy lure of a long day’s rest. It’s almost nice, you think, to die this way, rather than be eviscerated or singed or beaten to death. It almost seems like an unusual mercy.

Everything goes quiet, and you’re content to let yourself slip away, but then, there’s an awful screeching ringing out in front of you, and the grip around your throat loosens considerably. You manage to slide out of the demon’s hand, drooping down the wall into a coughing heap, air pouring into your depleted lungs like water to a thirsting man.

Your watery eyes peer up, go to question what had suddenly caused to you to be let go, and find Rose Lalonde latched onto the demons back, a large kitchen knife shoved through its throat. Dark, almost blackened blood pours from the wound, splashing on your face and clothes. The demon thrashes every which way, trying to throw Rose off of its form, but she holds steady.

The knife slides free from its throat, and Rose throws back her hand, ready to stab once again, but the loss of grip on the demon allows it enough leeway to send her sprawling backwards. The knife clinks against the floor, sliding away from Rose, and she rolls across the floor, her hand immediately shooting to her injured leg.

The demon turns, its form hunched and shaking - from fury or pain, you can’t tell - and its voice is a wet rasp as it growls out, “You stupid girl...  I’ll peel your skin from your bones for that!”

Its hand flies back, summons another waving glob of demonic energy, bigger than the one it had tossed at you. You know the moment that it hits Rose, it’ll melt away every inch of skin on her torso. If it doesn’t outright kill her, it’ll leave her a dying mess, and you refuse to let Rose die. Not after she just saved you.

Adrenaline, or something akin to a fire in your veins, makes you jump to your feet, and your hand flies forward, grabbing the demon by its mottled head. You push down, as hard as you can, and smash its face into the floor with all your might. There’s several crunches, of bones and cartilage moving in ways that they shouldn’t, and the wood splinters under the might of your strength.

“Tern si aush!” The words are out of your mouth before you can think, and a sudden, hot glow erupts from your hand, causing steam to rise from the demon’s flesh as it flails and wails in agony. “Ank ris on shu nushur!” You push harder against the back of its head, and the skin underneath your hand begins to sink and disperse into ash.

Lines of fire run down the demon’s body, its skin resembling a cracked, molten surface. Then, it begins flaking apart, literally disintegrating underneath the force of the light pouring from your hand. The green cloak lining its body flattens, sinking with its frame, until suddenly, you are left kneeling over a pile of smoldering ash.

You pull back, stare at your palm with wide, wild eyes. Your chest heaves up and down, your throat burning and stinging from just moments earlier. A glance to your right shows Rose sitting up halfway, her violet eyes trained on your hand and expressing outright wonder, and perhaps, even a little bit of fear.

“Are you okay?” You ask, and your voice is hoarse. She nods at you, slowly, though her hand still remains plastered over the bloody wound on her leg.

A sudden tingling sensation on your chest has your eyes turning to the wound left by the demonic bolt. You nearly gasp as you notice the skin piecing itself back together, the blackened edges turning pink, and then back into their normal pigment. A hand smooths over where the wound used to be, only a faint scar left where it had peeled away your skin.

A hiss of pain has you turning back to Rose, who is trying to push herself up onto her knees, but she seems to be struggling, her brows knitted in both frustration and discomfort. You crawl out of the circle of ashes you’d been kneeling in, and approach her slowly, coming to a still by her side. Without the first one, you place your hand upon the bloodied bite on her leg, and as if on queue, that burning light returns again.

“Jake, what are you-” Her words catch in her throat, a noise of alarm overtaking her instead as she lurches, her hand flying to her chest as if to still her beating heart. A shaky breath pours from her lips, as the flesh on her leg begins to stitch itself back together. Rose’s eyes flit back and forth, from your hand to your face, and her head shakes once, twice, disbelief apparent on her face. “How…?”

“I honestly have no friggin’ idea.” You bark out a hollow laugh, and shake your head as well. The wound on Rose’s leg closes completely, leaving behind similar scars to your own. You push yourself to your feet, and extend a hand down to her, which she takes after a moment of staring at it. “I can’t even begin to explain all the strange things that have been happening to me lately.”

“We’re both all turned around, aren’t we?” Rose straightens her skirt out, and looks around the room, grimacing at the mess of shattered glass and splintered wood. You rub the back of your neck awkwardly, suddenly feeling awful for ruining her floor. “This is bad, though. If demons are looking for you, then that must mean that there’s some merit behind what we’ve been studying.”

“I know,” Your voice is weary, and your brows furrow with displeasure. You stare at the pile of still smoldering ash lying on the floor, and wonder just who the demon was, and where they came from. Surely he wasn’t a missive from The Condesce. You doubt she’d send just a single demon after you.

That thought makes you huff out a sigh, and immediately, your thoughts shift to Dirk. You wonder where he is, and whether or not he’s followed through with his orders.

“I wonder if more will come?” Rose laughs, though the sound is empty, and her face says it all. “If they came after me, whose to say that they won’t go after Jade next? Or John? Anyone that has any sort of association with you may as well be in danger.”

“I know,” You repeat, and your voice goes hard, full of exasperation at the danger you’ve indirectly put your friends and family into. “I don’t know what to do yet, but I’m thinking. I’m thinking, I just-”

A crackling sound resounds from behind you, causing you to pause and flinch. Bright, violet light pours over your shoulders, and in your moment of sudden panic, your eyes find Rose’s own again. She’s staring straight past you, her bright orbs blown wide with shock, and her hands drawn up defensively over her body.

Slowly, fearfully, you spare a glance over your shoulder and spot a swirling vortex of shadows and darkness materializing in the middle of the room. You turn quickly, taking a few precautionary steps back, and purposely shove Rose behind you. “More demons?” You whisper, and feel Rose’s hand land gently on your shoulder, before her fingers grip you tightly.

“I… I don’t know. This isn’t how the other one came.”

Regardless of what she said, you ready yourself for another fight, taking a fighting stance and searching for that blinding heat that you know lies in your veins. Your hands thrum with energy, sending vibrations up your arms, and you find that this strange power of yours is beginning to respond more eagerly.

The first thing that appears from the swirling portal is a heeled foot, long and slender and sporting a golden cuff around the ankle. Pink stripes cover what you assume to be a shoe, and the dim light of the room and the portal glints unnaturally off of the gold accents. A shapely leg comes through, followed by another, eventually leading up to a wide waist and a hefty chest, all covered in midnight black and fuschia stripes.

Long tendrils of thick, black hair frame wide shoulders and arms that are covered in golden cuffs, beads, and other metallic jewelry. It seems endless, drifting down onto the floor and spilling out around the newcomer’s body like a billowing cloud.

But the face that comes through is what earns your attention the most.

Pitch black skin, pink painted lips surrounding rows of groomed, saw-like teeth, black, void-filled scleras and piercing, fuchsia eyes stare you down. A heavy crown of gold circles the being’s head, wounding through inky black hair and around ridiculously long black horns. If Rose’s living room didn’t have such a high ceiling, you guarantee that they would have scraped and perhaps pierced her ceiling.

And in the being’s hand lay a double-sided trident, nearly as long as her towering form, which eclipsed both you and Rose easily. It, too, was made of pure gold, and encrusted with gems of all types and varieties.

It’s full lips would spread into a sharp-toothed grin, like a predator staring down their prey in the midst of a hunt. You feel an intense chill run down your spine, an instinctual warning to run from this thing, because something in your gut was screaming at you that they were older and more powerful than anything you’d ever seen in your measly human life.

“Ah, and here he is. What a pleasure to finally meet you… Jake English.”

A feminine voice. It’s smooth and regal, the tone of a queen addressing her subjects, and the realization hits you that you could very well be staring down a queen.

Because this is her. This is The Condesce, and she has come for you.

“I know you,” Your voice trembles, and you press your hand against Rose’s shoulder, urging her to stand as far back as she can. Rose seems to sense the dire situation at hand, and she begins back-tracking, trying to put as much distance between her and The Condesce as possible.

The Condesce seems to notice her absconding, and her trident hits the floor with a piercing clang, sending wood and splinters flying where it met. “Not so fast, little seer. I have use for you just yet. You’re as much a part of this as he is.”

“Leave Rose out of this. She’s innocent.” Unlike before, you can’t seem to summon that hard edge to your voice, and your words come out trembling like a leaf in the wind.

The Condesce sneers at you, her grin morphing into an expression of irritation. The hand around the trident tightens visibly, and you have to swallow around a suddenly thick throat. “You don’t tell me what to do, Jake English. As a matter of fact, from here on out, you listen to my every command. I tell you to jump, and you ask, ‘How high, your gracious majesty?’.”

There’s a hundred cries of rebellion lingering on your tongue, but you can’t summon the courage to utter any of them. The Condesce’s glare makes you almost wilt in submission. All you can do is stand in silence as she stares the two of you down, wondering what she must be waiting for. If there’s something you should be saying, you’re unaware of it.

Finally, her trident clacks against the floor once more, and she’s bellowing out in a commanding voice. “Dirk Strider, I know you’re behind me. You know our agreement, runt, now follow through with it.”

It feels as though someone has run you through with a dagger. A small noise of despair escapes you at Dirk’s name, and on queue, you see him step through the portal with hesitant steps. His eyes are bare, lacking their usual wear, though they are careful not to reflect his body language.

They are hard and empty. Unreadable. He doesn’t even look at you.

A slew of armored demons follow behind him, spreading out around The Condesce in a trained line. Your stance softens, your shoulders going lax. It feels as though all the energy has been sucked out of you. You can’t even find the will to appear threatening anymore.

“Dirk…” His name is a whisper on your lips. “Dirk, what have you done?”

His orange eyes find you momentarily, only for a second, and you stare hard to find any hidden words in them. There is nothing, and he looks away just as quick as he did before. You shake your head, feeling anger build in your chest, the sudden desire to scream and curse at him nearly overtaking you.

The Condesce interrupts you before anything can happen. “I hope you’ll enjoy Derse, because that’s where you’re going to be spending all your time now.” She raises her hand, waving it forward, and her guards nod in acknowledgement, before tactically surrounding both you and Rose. You hear Rose make a noise of distress, and she quickly bounds back to you, grabbing your arm tightly.

“Jake… what do we do?” Her voice is hushed, full of anxious fear.

“Nothing.” Yours is defeated, though lined with a layer of fury that you can barely contain. Rose spares you an alarmed glance, as if waiting for you to change your answer. You don’t meet her eyes. Instead, they stay fixed on Dirk’s emotionless face, narrowed into a glare that you hope is making his skin crawl.

“Escort our new friends into Derse. We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> **  
> Translations:  
>  _Tern si aush!_ \- Turn to ash!  
>  _Ank ris on shu nushur!_ \- And rot in the nether!


End file.
